The Darkness Within Part II
by Mijra
Summary: Once the box of Pandora is opened, there's no turning back. While Julian's condition is rapidly worsening, Sisko tries to find out the truth about what is really happening to his first medical officer.
1. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer**: Neither Star Trek nor any of its characters belong to me... their all Paramount's.

When you're reading this, you are about to start with the second part of "The Darkness Within". If you haven't read the first one, this chapter will leave you with a lot of questions, so you'd better go back to the first part and start at the beginning!^^ You can find the first part of the story under my pen name. For everybody else, please enjoy the continuation of the story!

The story takes place in the 6th season, between the episodes "Inquisition" and "In the pale moonlight".

**What happened so far**:

In the middle of the war with the Dominion, the _Defiant _and her crew are sent on a secret mission to rescue the survivors of a Vulcan research vessel out of the hands of the Jem'Hadar after the ship had discovered a new Dominion cloning facility and weapons factory on a planet called Atholes III near Cardassian space and was thereupon taken prisoner by the enemy. On their mission, the crew of the _Defiant_ is accompanied by Captain Robert Evans, a former colonist of Atholes III when the planet had still been part of the Starfleet colonization program until a war between the adjacent star systems led to the abandonment of the colony a few decades earlier. While the _Defiant_ and her crew get ready for yet another battle with the Dominion, Dr. Julian Bashir is haunted by nightmares about events in his childhood that never seemed to have happened. In the middle of their mission on Atholes III, he discovers a startling connection to his nightmares which causes the world as he had known it to cease to exist...

* * *

**The Darkness Within – Part II**

"Will you catch me when I fall...?"

* * *

"_Sometimes we have to make decisions where every path we take means to lose _

– _but still we have to make our choice – and live with the decision..." _

- Captain Benjamin Sisko

* * *

**- Chapter 9 -**

Commander Jadzia Dax' slender fingers flew in a wild dance over the the console's blinking display, the young Trill praying to the gods of a dozen of worlds that they grant her the chance to manage what she knew would be nearly impossible. Ignoring the nagging voice in the back of her mind that was trying to convince her that nothing she did would change anything about the fact that this time their mission had failed – and the bone rattling siren that had started to squeal the instant the first bomb had gone off – Jadzia Dax was desperately clinging to a smidgen of hope in the face of impossible odds.

With all her knowledge and skill she kept hacking in commands, trying to convince the piece of metal under her palms to help her work a miracle. If only she could bypass the security sub-system and get access to the control information of the force field emitter. Entering the security code had proven a complete disaster and left her with the bitter taste that there had been a reason for choosing Julian for the task after all. Their only chance lay now with getting access to the power grid controls and shunning down the field manually. The prophets knew she was no engineer, but she had to try all the same. Ever faster flew her fingers over the shiny display, her thoughts spinning back to the other teams. Benjamin was still inside the complex. And so was Worf. She could tell by the energy control readouts that the first bomb had already detonated and successfully severed the open-air grounds from the main energy supply. If everything had gone as planned, the other teams would have been on their way back home right now.

She slammed a fist down onto the panel in frustration, unable to get her thoughts together. The security siren's unnerving bleating didn't really help either. It was like back in the Kobayashi Maru. Only worse. Ensign Robinson sat numbly behind her in front of another flickering monitor, watching everything with a blank and rather detached expression. Jeffrey kept back next to the door, giving her as much room as she needed. He had his hands clasped behind his back as if he didn't know what else to do with them.

"No reaction!" Dax' voice was shaking with barely subdued anger and panic. "That damn thing doesn't work!"

Forcing herself to stay calm by calling upon her training throughout seven lifetimes, she knew that she was about the only person left on this godforsaken planet who was still able to turn the tables. And that burden weighed heavy. She couldn't allow herself to get emotional. Not with her experience. _Try to think logically_. Banishing every other thought out of her mind, she tried it another way, bypassing the external control, redirecting the residual energy into the life support system of the control room.

Access denied.

Her heart was racing in a futile effort to support her system with enough energy and adrenaline to fight a battle she knew she couldn't win. Sweat was running down her forehead when she threw another quick glance at the readouts above the console. About to utter another curse, her breath all at once caught in her throat. Staring at the tiny spots that kept blinking and rising up the length of the monitor, her mind needed some few seconds until it grasped the meaning of the unusual energy pattern.

"There seems to be a fluctuation in the second backdrop vent of the power grid," she stated slowly in confusion, not sure if she saw right. Her hands hovered indecisively inches above the security console. Once again she squinted at the readouts.

She could hear Ensign Robinson draw herself up behind her.

Stunned by the unexpected discovery, she tapped a few controls and called a map of the power grid onto the display. The map popped up within an instant, displayed in an eerie green on the black screen above her head.

"It seems to originate from somewhere next to the open-air grounds." Dax squinted at the red blinking spot, enveloping the green lines that were symbolizing the power conduits of the facility's energy grid. An instant later, the spot became larger, its blinking more urgent. It was exactly the place where Benjamin and the others should have exited the grounds if everything had gone as planned. Unsure what to make of it, she stared intently at the screen.

"The grid … is overloading," she exclaimed, her face drawn into a grimace of disbelief. "The energy pattern is going to burst." Her voice reverberated through the empty control room like thunder.

Ensign Robinson stepped closer. "You mean, it will erode the force field?"

Spinning round to face the young ensign, Dax drew herself up as well. She wasn't at all sure what this was about. She only knew that obviously fate had granted them another unique chance. They couldn't waste it. An instant later she had her phaser rifle back in her hands.

"It won't," she stated solemnly, shooting a quick glance back at the control panel. "It already has."

Not waiting for Robinson's and Jeffrey's reply, she urged the others to follow her. "We have to get to the others. Now!"

* * *

Captain Benjamin Sisko felt the sweat running down both sides of his temples. Staring in bewilderment at the flickering wall of energy that was blocking their way to the outside world only a few steps in front of them, he felt a jolt of horror.

"That's impossible!" His voice barely made it over the din around them. The first explosion had turned the place into hell's playground, black smoke billowing in heavy columns toward the blue morning sky. The siren that had come next was even worse. A rain of debris and soot had turned the ground to their feet into a ghostly battlefield of dirt and heaps of twisted metal. The heavy layer of smoke that was filling the air stung in the eye and made Sisko involuntarily cough for breath. He didn't even have to look back at the tattered remains that once had been the access door to the ore-stock and the rest of the facility that was ablaze in all its glory to know that the place was already doomed. There was no longer a way to stop the avalanche of events that would unfold next.

"Dammit! Something must have gone wrong. Dr. Bashir didn't get the code in in time. We're trapped in here!" Evans shouted, cursing under his breath, when he came to a slithering halt next to Sisko. His eyes were as wide and unbelieving as Sisko's.

Benjamin felt his stomach turn at the implication, a wave of nausea washing over him at the sight of another fifty men and women coming running over toward them through the haze of lightning and thunder. He could see Kira next to them, ducking and firing upon enemies beyond the thick veil of smoke – and he knew that Worf couldn't be far judging from the ugly hiss of disruptor bolts burning through the already heavy air. Another thunder from an explosion within the complex made the earth lurch in agony and the group of prisoners stagger and fall to the ground. Even from the distance, Sisko could see their sweaty and grime-covered faces, every one of them grim with the determination to fight for their freedom now that fate had granted them this unique chance. But he knew they wouldn't get far. Weeks of malnutrition and hard labor had left them with little chance to stand against an armada of trained Jem'Hadar soldiers, left alone the fact that he was dealing with a group of scientist, not a group of commissioned Starfleet officers. They only had their few phaser rifles they'd brought along with them from the _Defiant_, and there was nothing around aside of heavy ore stacks and steel pipes that came even close to a makeshift weapon.

"Damn!" Sisko turned in frustration, running a sweaty hand over his head. His heart was pounding heavily in his chest, his mind was racing. Evans was right next to him, for the first time as unsure and indecisive as Sisko. His perplexed expression lingered only for a moment, though, when his eyes darted toward Kira and Worf and the rest of the prisoners. His face was dark when he spun back to Sisko.

"If we can find another access panel, we might have a chance to override the security system from within," he stated calmly, obviously not willing to let panic gain the upper hand. "To the best of my recollection, they used to have external control panels to get access to the power supply in the case of an emergency. If they're still active and the Dominion hasn't replaced them, we might be able to access the power grid control from there. There used to be a mechanism to shut down the power relays directly from the outside in case of an accident within the facility. If we manage to launch the emergency program, it might cut off the open-air grounds from the rest of the energy supply. I know that they definitely had some of those control panels 25 years ago. If we're lucky, we'll be able to find one of them..."

Sisko could sense the underlying message. _It's nothing more than clutching at a straw – _but all they had aside from waiting for their all deaths. _Try to find a solution. _That was all that counted right now. He nodded.

The hiss and lightning of phaser fire behind them grew louder. They had to hurry. He had no doubt that at the same moment a file of Jem'Hadar soldiers was trying to get through to the open-air grounds to reinforce the few soldiers that had been stationed outside the complex when the explosion had gone off. Kira and Worf wouldn't be able to hold them in check forever. When the first wave of captives arrived next to them, panting heavily for breath in the thin and smoke-laden air, Sisko knew they had to act. It was now or never.

"Stay here and don't move!" he commanded, beckoning a security officer to help keep the people together.

"We need to find one of those access panels," he nodded toward Evans, his phaser rifle in both hands, already about to head back for the ore-processing facility, when he felt a firm touch on his arm. Startled, he spun around, ignoring another rumble that translated through the dusty and cracked ground and nearly shook him off his feet.

"You are the captain?" A tall and grim-looking man with dark, trimmed hair had appeared out of the crowd. The man's uniform was dirty and tattered like those of all captives, though besides that he seemed unharmed. Even now in the midst of battle he carried himself with a calm grace that left no doubt to his position within the group. His eyes were of a piercing blue, fixed on Sisko with their unyielding stare.

"Captain Benjamin Sisko from the space station Deep Space Nine," Sisko introduced himself curtly, not willing to lose precious time with unnecessary formalities.

The Vulcan squared his shoulders. "Captain T'Lhan, former commanding officer of the research vessel _T'Hekal._ I take it you were sent by Starfleet?" he said in a cool voice that betrayed nothing of the Vulcan's real emotions.

Sisko eyed him with slight suspicion. "We were sent to rescue your crew and destroy the Dominion cloning facility, Captain. But I'm afraid the rest of the story will have to wait." Lowering his voice to a level that made it impossible for the others to hear his words, he added through gritted teeth: "This place will blow up every second now. We have to find a way to take down the force field. It should have been severed from the energy grid by now but we weren't able to override the security backup system in time. We need to find an access panel to shut down the power grid manually." He doubted that it would be this easy. For their both sake he kept his worries to himself, though.

Holding Sisko's gaze for a short moment, the Vulcan suddenly nodded. T'Lhan's deep blue eyes radiated a startling calmness and self confidence. His face remained as unreadable and expressionless as a mask of wax when he beckoned toward the group of captives. Another tall and slim man stepped forth, hurrying toward them. When he came to a halt next to Evans and Sisko, he acknowledged them with a slight nod.

"You know what to do," T'Lhan addressed his officer in a strangely flat voice. He didn't elaborate on his words, but Sisko couldn't shake the feeling that the situation was running more and more out of control – in many ways. He wasn't sure what the other man's words meant, but something about the Vulcan's behavior told him that the whole situation came not as unexpected for them as it definitely should have.

T'Lhan's crew member set off toward the ore-processing facility. Within seconds he was swallowed up by the thick black smoke that was crawling over the ground like a giant sluggish Horta.

"Captain T'Lhan, what is this about?" Sisko demanded in confusion, glancing over to Evans whose expression hovered somewhere between grim determination and a dark glare.

The Vulcan captain cocked up one brow. "One month is a long time, Captain Sisko," he only said.

Sisko didn't have time to dwell on T'Lhan's words. An ugly hiss, like air rushing out of a cargo bay into space, seared through the heavy air. The next moment he heard someone exclaim: "The force field's down!"

Whirling round to see it with his own eyes, his first reaction was one of disbelief. The flickering of the force field had stopped, the energy barrier dissolved within a moment's notice. Stunned about the sudden turn in events, he shot a short and unbelieving glance toward the Vulcan captain.

"I believe you told me we ought to hurry, Captain Sisko," T'Lhan said calmly. "As soon as the Jem'Hadar get through to us, we won't stand a chance against them. Not even with you on our side. Believe me. Where is your ship?"

Even before Sisko could form a reply, Evans had already taken action. Beckoning the rest of the group to follow him, he urged them to keep their heads down as he sent them out into the streets of Northport. "Keep together. We'll give you cover!" Evans shouted over the din, waving for the prisoners and crew members to move. And no moment to soon.

Another disruptor bolt hit the ground next to Sisko, making him whirl round and open fire at the scaly alien that had emerged out of the smoke like a silent ghost of wrath. A moment later, Kira was at his side, giving him and the group rear cover while she took out one enemy after another. Staggering and stumbling through the field of knee-high grass that was separating the open-air grounds from the rim of the settlement, Sisko tried to keep their backs free the best he could. He panted for breath the time they finally crossed the last ridge to the dusty streets of Northport.

Stumbling onto the cobblestone street that was running the length around the former ore-processing facility, he whirled back at the heavy smoke that still rose from the core of the complex. He could see another thick black-red column erupting in the distance, followed by another roaring thunder that shook the ground to their feet. Lucky enough, the Jem'Hadar had obviously not yet managed to swarm out into the settlement. Apart from the phaser fire that had died down some minutes earlier, there was no sign of any pursuit...

Rising his tempo, he mentally counted their numbers, searching for the familiar black, blue-trimmed uniforms of his crew, then for the black-haired figures stumbling like a flood wave through the narrow street of the old settlement. His thoughts involuntarily spun back to the other teams. Worf and Kira were with them, Chief O'Brien and Nog had sent the signal that they were on their way retreating to the landing coordinates. That only left the team of Dax and Doctor Bashir. He felt an unpleasant twitch in the pit of his stomach at the thought. They still didn't know what had happened to team four.

"Robert," he called out while running with the stream of prisoners through the empty veins of the old settlement. On his call, Evans lowered his tempo until he fell back to the end of their group. "Captain T'Lhan reported that all of his crew members are with us. Major Kira is taking the lead. It seems that her team is complete," Evans reported quickly. His face lost some of its color when he finally added: "That only leaves Commander Dax and Doctor Bashir."

Sisko didn't like the idea. They hadn't received any signal from team four. So they practically didn't know if they had ever made it to the control room in the first place.

"Benjamin!"

At the sudden voice they both stopped. When Sisko turned perplexed in the direction where the call had come from, he felt a sudden surge of relief.

"Dax!" he exclaimed.

The young Trill skidded to a halt next to them, propping herself on her knees while she panted heavily for breath. She must have run over all the way from the control room. And behind here, he saw Ensign Robinson and Lieutenant Jeffrey following in her wake. His face drew into a dark grimace when he realized that half of the team was not with them.

"Where's the rest?" The captain asked in alarm.

"We got separated. Williams is dead. Julian and Fernandez have been missing ever since." She cut the information to a minimum. Loose strands of her dark hair tumbled about her face when she lifted her gaze to meet the captain's.

Somehow he had known that something would happen. Somehow he had known that victory was bought at its price... Squinting back at the smoke and ash billowing out over the rooftops of Northport, he tried to get an overview over their current situation. Retreating back to the landing coordinates had top priority. They needed to get the crew of _T'Hekal _back to the _Defiant_, to say nothing of the trouble they would get into if they didn't make it off the planet before another Dominion strike ship made its way to Atholes III. They couldn't be sure that there hadn't been other troups patrolling the city when the bomb in the cloning facility had gone off. If there still were any living Jem'Hadar soldiers around, they'd be already on their way by now, led by the blazing fire that was towering over Northport like a beacon of death...

Evans face grew dark. "Can we locate them?"

The young Trill shook her head, her face drawn into a painful grimace. "The tricorder doesn't give any clear readouts. The sensor range is too small and the interferences too high..." She threw an anxious glance at both captains. "We've already tried to find them but..."

"If we cut down the sensor range to a minimum, would we be able to scan through the radiation?" Evans asked calmly.

Dax nodded. "I guess that should work. But we still would have to search for them. The scan radius wouldn't be more than some 100 meters..."

Sisko drew in a long breath. 100 meters wasn't really much. Not considering the area they would have to search. They didn't even know where to start...

"If we go back to the point where we first got separated...," Dax suddenly suggested as if having read his thoughts. "...we might be able to find them there..." She knew how much was at stake.

Evans nodded. "She's right, Benjamin. It's our only chance. If we don't find them now, no one ever will."

Without further comment, Sisko beckoned toward the group of prisoners who were almost out of sight. "Good. Get back to the others and tell Major Kira and Mr. Worf. I'll go and search for Fernandez and Bashir. As soon as I've found them, we'll come after you." Already about to leave, Sisko was suddenly held back by Evans.

"We'll come with you, Ben," Evans said decisively with a firm hand on his shoulder.

* * *

Bending over the mutilated remains of the young woman, he felt nausea threatening to take over. She was already dead, that much was clear. Killed by the ugly, fist-thick hole burned through her slender chest. The blood oozing from her lifeless body and pooling to both sides in the cobblestone racks had already begun to dry. At least they'd found one missing crew member – though he would have rather not found her in a state like this. The only consolation, even though a poor one, was the sight of the sunken down alien figure, sprawled motionless on the far end of the street.

"No sign of Julian," Dax stated with another scan of their surroundings. The sun stood still high in the cloudless sky above the streets of Northport, the quiet around them betraying nothing of what had happened only a stone's throw away from their current position. "It's not far from where we got separated, Benjamin. Julian must have followed her and..." she knit her brow, trying hard to reconstruct what could have happened after their separation.

"Where the hell has he gone?" Sisko muttered under his breath and turned once again into the direction they had just come from, scanning their surroundings for any hint as to Julian's whereabouts. One dusty street of the town looked like the other. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Sweat was running down his back. Sisko drew in a deep breath to calm himself and organize his thoughts. At least Bashir wasn't lying on the street next to Ensign Fernandez. So there still was a chance that he had made it out of the attack alive...

But still, they'd already run out of time. If they didn't find Bashir very soon, they'd have to go on without him – an option Sisko preferred not to consider as long as there was still hope.

"Commander, what is the shortest way from here to the control room? Can you put the map on the display?" Evans suddenly frowned. "I'm sure that Julian had the map memorized. He'd have known where the shortest route to the control room was and probably tried to get there. If he's hurt, we might find him somewhere on that way."

"Acknowledged." Dax activated the screen with a few taps, calling up a small map of the northern area of the city. "It's not far. There's a street running parallel to ours that is one of the main streets leading toward the center of the settlement. It seems to be the shortest route from here."

Evans took a quick look at the readouts before he tightened his grip around the phaser rifle. "We have exactly twenty minutes," he stated grimly. "That's the absolute limit that leaves us enough time to get back to the landing coordinates. If we haven't found him till then, we have to get back to the _Defiant_ without him."

Evans' voice was hard and commanding, though he didn't quite succeed in hiding the pain in his gray eyes. Sisko knew Robert would be the first to do anything to find their missing doctor, but also that he had learned to put his personal feelings back behind the figure of authority he had grown to impersonate over all the past years. He was the commanding officer after all.

"Then we shouldn't waste any more time," Sisko said as he flipped open his own tricorder.

Scanning the vast area of the main street took them far longer than Sisko would have liked. The area was way too large, the radius of their tricorders far too small to work as efficiently as they needed to. Every now and then one of them stopped – but it all turned out as dead ends. Apart from their own footsteps echoing loudly in the deserted streets, the place was drowned in an eerie silence. It set Sisko's nerves on edge, making him jump at the smallest unusual sound around them. After ten long minutes they hadn't come any farther as they had been at the beginning. He clamped down on the feeling of frustration as he kept scanning the hallways to both sides for any traces of life.

And suddenly, it was Evans who came to an abrupt halt, staring with a mixture of hope and anxiety at his beeping tricorder. Following the readouts, he hurried over to the place where his tricorder was picking up a weak signal. Only a few seconds later, Sisko and Dax were at his side. Together they lifted their gazes to the old deserted building in front of their eyes.

The small, two story building was standing slightly aloof from the rest of the houses along the street. Its ocher paint was coming off at some places and the small garden lining the side of the house was almost completely overgrown with weed and big tufts of fern. Moss-covered stairs were leading up to a dark brown wooden door that stood ajar, its inside only visible in the few rays of sunlight that spilled in through the gap in the door.

"The signal... It's coming from inside," Evans whispered reluctantly under his breath. A dark shadow was crossing his handsome features when he absently stared at the sight in front of their eyes. His lips were drawn into a tight line when he once again checked his tricorder readouts. He suddenly looked so much older, like if the years had finally caught up on him. But Sisko couldn't blame him. Whatever was waiting for them inside the old building's crumbling walls, it would be anything but pleasant for Evans. Seeing his old home town rotten and decayed in the bright sunlight, running through its dying streets with the purpose of a mission was one thing. Taking a closer look at what his old home had become after all these years was a totally different one.

"I get a weak signal as well," Dax stated, waving her tricorder about the place. A faint smile of relief spread across her lips. "It's weak, but it's stable," she added in an afterthought.

"Are there any other life signs?" Sisko shot her a short look of alarm. He didn't exactly want to run into a trap now that they had made it this far.

Dax shook her head. "It's only one."

"Okay, let's get inside," Sisko decided, heading for the broad stair flight. Dax was following in his wake when he climbed the few steps to the door.

It was Evans, however, who suddenly hesitated, casting a quick look to both sides of the street. His face had lost some of its color, and his voice was strangely flat and emotionless when he finally said: "You two go ahead. I'll stay here and keep watch till you're back. I don't want any bad surprises."

With a subtle nod Sisko turned to push the weathered door aside and entered the dark staircase. The room behind was pitch black, making his stomach painfully tighten. He awkwardly tapped on his wrist beacon, before he took another step further into the darkness. He more felt his way up to the first landing than he actually saw anything but as soon as he had reached another door leading to an apartment on the second floor, he stopped, waiting for Dax to catch up. He ran his lights along the old door in front of them. It too was standing ajar.

"The tricorder is picking up one life sign," the young Trill stated again. "It's definitely from inside." She pocketed her tricorder when Sisko pushed against the open door. With a loud squeal it gave way.

Cautiously Sisko entered the room. At first he squinted against the golden twilight the room was filled with until his eyes slowly began to adjust. Though what he saw at last only furthered the unpleasant feeling in his stomach. The apartment looked exactly like back in the days when there was still life pulsing through the veins of Northport. Everything was still on its place. Furniture, the inhabitant's belongings – everything lay untouched since the day when Northport had died. Standing in the midst of a dream long gone by, Sisko felt a cold shiver run down his spine. Seeing the place so deserted, the traces of time and decay painted all over the scenery, he felt like intruding into secrets that were never meant to be revealed. Hidden and forgotten by the human soul, preserved like an insect in ember, the city kept on living though its inhabitants had long ago ceased to exist. It was an oppressive sight.

"Benjamin!" He felt a soft touch on his arm and followed Dax' gesture to the heavy layer of dust that was covering the whole floor in a dull gray. At some places, though, the ash-like carpet was disturbed by footprints, barely visible but there nonetheless. They were leading through the room and back again before they vanished into the door next to their right. They definitely didn't look like those of Jem'Hadar.

"Julian?"

When there was no response, the young Trill ventured deeper into the desolate apartment.

"Dr. Bashir?" Sisko's firm voice echoed along the corridor in an intensity that startled himself.

Crossing the threshold to the adjacent room to their right, they found it as deserted as the rest of the apartment. It wasn't very big. A narrow bed stood at one side, its blue bed cover drawn neatly over once-white sheets. Directly above it, faint light filtered in through gaps in the dirty and grime-covered window. A fluffy brown teddy bear was lying next to the bed on the floor. Judging from the colorful furniture and the old and broken toys, it must have been a child's room.

Slowly, Dax took an intent look around, finally turning to the old desk next to the door. Some stationary lay still scattered about its dusty surface, a stack of crumbled paper piled on one side. A crunching sound made her all at once flinch, when she realized that she had just stepped onto something hard, giving way beneath her boots. Slightly surprised, she bent down to the floor and retrieved the worn and old picture from its broken frame. Sisko curiously stepped next to her until he could see what it was she was holding.

It was a child's picture, that much was clear. But what it was that it should portrait he couldn't tell. The colors had faded almost completely off the paper, the frame's shadow burned forever around the shakily drawn landscape. Something on its right side reminded him of a tree – or a person, though the forms and lines where too unsteady and blurred to make out anything further.

Carefully, Dax lay it back on the table and once again reached for her tricorder. Looking at the readouts, she frowned – and suddenly held her breath. Sisko, already about to search again out in the corridor, involuntarily stopped. Without another word she hunkered down on her heels. Perplexed by her strange behavior, Sisko bent down as well – and felt his heart skip a beat.

The young doctor sat crouching in the narrow space under the old desk, pressed as far into its dark shadow as his grown-up size would allow him. He'd drawn both knees up to his chest, arms folded around and his face buried between them. He looked unhurt – as far as Sisko could assess. No blood or other bruises. Apart from his dark rumpled hair, only a layer of dust was covering the shoulder part of his uniform that must have most likely come from his encounter with the Jem'Hadar. Either oblivious to their presence or unconscious, the young man didn't move.

"Julian?" Sisko tried slightly unsure in the heavy silence that was filling the small room.

The young man didn't react. Weren't it for his barely rising shoulders, Sisko wouldn't have been able to tell if Bashir was still alive. The short feeling of relief about having found his missing officer was almost immediately replaced by worry. Something was wrong. What was Julian doing here? He couldn't imagine why he would take cover in a secluded place like this. Even if he had been on the run, it didn't exactly strike Sisko as the first choice of retreat...

He cast an unsure glance at Dax at his side before he tried again, this time more persistent. "Julian?"

It wasn't until Sisko cautiously reached for his arm, repeating the young man's name once more, that Bashir suddenly startled and lifted his head. When his fearful gaze caught the two persons kneeling on the dusty floor next to him, the young man's eyes all of a sudden widened, an expression of sheer terror crossing his pale features. It was only now that Sisko realized that he had cried. His eyes were red and swollen, his face blushed and the remains of the tears still sticking to his cheeks. Julian's arms tightened awkwardly around his drawn-up knees when he stared terrified back at them as if they had just come out of his darkest nightmare.

"Julian, what... what happened?" Startled by the doctor's more than unexpected sight, Sisko's frown deepened when he tried to assess if his first impression hadn't been wrong and Bashir wasn't injured after all. The mere expression on the young man's face took him completely off guard, and made a cold chill pierce through him at the same time. There was so much longing and despair in those eyes, yet not a spark of recognition. Sisko had been prepared for much – but surely not this. What on earth had happened? Already about to reach for his tricorder to run a proper medical scan, Julian's sudden and fearful cringe made his hand involuntarily stop in midair.

The young man had ducked his head as if to make himself as small as possible, his face contorted into a painful grimace. "Please... " he finally stammered feebly under his breath, "...don't… don't hurt me." New tears were beginning to form in the corner of his shimmering eyes when he fearfully lifted his pleading gaze to Sisko.

Huddled in the darkness of his tiny cover, with his hunched shoulders and quivering lips, he reminded Sisko more of a frightened child than the first medical officer he'd been working with for the last six years. In all the time he had know Bashir now, he'd never seen him in such a battered, miserable condition. Not after his and Kira's severe episode in the mirror universe, not after his capture in a Dominion prison camp last year, not even after what had happened with Sloan. Seeing the once bright doctor with his usual self-confidence and passion huddled now so scared and distraught in front of him came like a sudden and painful blow. He found it hard to believe that the young man staring now back at him with those terrified eyes should be the same person they had separated from only hours before. What had happened? Not in the least sure what to make of – say nothing of how to respond to – Julian's fearful plea, he shot an alarmed glance at the young Trill next to him. The shock on her face told him that she, too, didn't have the merest clue as to what this was about.

Turning back to Bashir, he slowly raised his hands in a – what he hoped – calming gesture. He didn't even need to have a look at his tricorder to know that the young man was hovering on the brink of panic.

"Julian, you're safe. We won't hurt you," he intently said with still upraised hands. The words felt strange in his own ears, and the situation that made him utter them felt even stranger. Trying to muster as much sympathy as possible, he once again pushed: "Julian, can you tell me what happened? Are you hurt?"

He didn't seem to understand his words. Sisko wasn't even sure if he had any idea of who they were and where he was. Julian just kept staring at them in silent horror, his breath growing more and more chopped. Even in the room's dim twilight, it was obvious that he was shaking badly, his dark disheveled hair framing a face that had gone as white as chalk. _He's in shock, that much is clear._ Though Sisko didn't have the slightest idea what this shock could be due to. They hadn't encountered any Jem'Hadar on the way here – and there had been no traces of a fight. Julian didn't seem to be hurt and apart from Fernandez' and Julian's encounter with some Jem'Hadar that had cost the young ensign her life, there was practically nothing that would shed some light on why his first medical officer was cowering so frightened in the dark, shaking as if he had seen hell itself...

He bit back a curse when his thoughts spun back to the attack, his inner voice reminding him that they were slowly but surely running out of time. In this very moment, a file of Jem'Hadar soldiers might be on their way down here, surging through the lifeless streets of Northport to prevent the prisoners from escaping. Kira and Worf were already on their way back to the landing coordinates and would be safely back on board the _Defiant_ in only a few more minutes. That only left them – and an army of furious Jem'Hadar soldiers set on the loose – in the elsewise deserted streets of Northport. The mere thought of it set free a rush of adrenaline. They had no time to waste. They had to get out of here. Now.

"Julian, listen to me. You're safe. No one will hurt you. But we have to get away from here. Do you understand me?" Sisko urged emphatically, not sure how much Bashir was able to grasp of the situation in his current condition. "The _Defiant_'s waiting for us. Can you walk?" When he offered a helping hand, the young man shied away from the touch, panic slowly gaining the upper hand.

"No… no, I…" Bashir blurted out, trying to shove himself farther away from the captain's hand. For a moment, Sisko even feared that Bashir might lash out at him in a reflex of self defense.

"Julian, everything's okay. We're here to bring you home. No one is going to hurt you," now also Dax tried to get through to him, her voice soft and sympathetic when she locked her eyes with his. She, too, must have sensed that the situation out in the streets of Northport was not the only one that was running out of control.

Utterly unsure what to do, but at the same time painfully aware that they weren't getting anywhere, Sisko finally drew in a deep breath and made a decision. Their first priority was getting them all safely back to the _Defiant_. That was all that counted right now. With a short beckon toward the young Trill, he bent forward to take gentle hold of Julian's arm. A moment later, Dax was at his side, lending him a helping hand in his attempt to get the young man out of his cover. "It's okay, Julian. We won't hurt you. Everything's going to be alright," she once again tried to calm him when she felt him stiffen under her touch.

Eyes wide with fear, Bashir just stared at them, new tears suddenly rushing to the fore. "No… Mum…Dad... please," he desperately begged with trembling shoulders when he seemed to realized that they wouldn't just leave him alone. His unexpected words made Sisko halt for a moment, and elicited a confused look from the young Trill, though there was no time to dwell on it when Bashir suddenly tried to squirm free of their hold. His fighting them, however, was barely more than helpless suffering in the face of defeat. In the end, his weak resistance was anything but enough to defend himself against both of them, giving Dax and Sisko finally the opportunity to bring him out of his cover completely. Even when Sisko braced him to bring him up to his feet, Julian didn't dare face them, his features twisted into a painful grimace, tears uncontrollably streaming down his pallid cheeks. Interrupted by sporadic sobs he constantly babbled about being sorry, about never having wanted to do anything wrong.

"Julian, look at me. You're safe. No one is going to hurt you. Do you understand me?" Swallowing hard against the tightness in her throat, Jadzia tried to ignore the queasiness in her own stomach when she softly took his ashen face between her hands and forced his gaze to meet her's. When her eyes met his, it was as if he didn't realize that she was there at all. He kept staring through her, though behind those clouded eyes she could sense the terror that held his mind captured, making him see things no one else could.

And then, his legs all of a sudden and without forewarning gave way, making him double over and sag to the floor hadn't Sisko reacted in time to catch his falling body, easing him cautiously to the floor. Julian had lost consciousness. He barely seemed to breath at all, his exhausted body only braced by the captain who shot an alarmed look at Dax.

"Go ahead and tell Evans. I'll follow in a minute."

Nodding, the young Trill reluctantly drew herself up. "You sure you can handle him?" she asked in concern, when she tapped on her wrist beacon.

Placing an arm around Julian's unconscious body and draping one of the young man's arms over his shoulders, Sisko dragged him slowly up from the dusty ground. Despite his slender form, Julian was heavier than he'd first expected. He'd manage, though. He'd have rather not moved him as long as they couldn't be sure it was safe to do so but staying here any minute longer was out of the question. Unconscious, Bashir at least couldn't put up a fight. With a short nod, he beckoned Dax to take the lead and without another look back he followed her out into the darker corridor.

Bringing them both down the endless stairs from the second floor seemed like half an eternity to Sisko, each step through the darkness increasing his worry, each step making him wonder what could have happened to Julian and Fernandez' after their separation from the others. No matter how he thought about it, he wouldn't come up with a plausible explanation. Dragging Julian with him at his side, recalling the young man's utter look of despair, he had the bad feeling that after all what had happened during the last years, this time it had been too much. One blow to much – and even Bashir had finally shattered. He didn't know what this blow had been – and he refused to believe that he had lost his first medical officer and friend for good. But still, with Fernandez and Williams dead and Bashir obviously not himself, Sisko felt the bitter taste that again victory had been bought at its price.

When he finally stepped down the last few moss-covered stairs into the bright and warm sunlight of Atholes III, Evans and Dax were already anxiously waiting for him. The older captain's usually gentle features were drawn into a worried frown when he saw them emerge from the building. Slinging his phaser rifle onto his back, he came hurrying over to help Sisko brace Bashir. "What happened?" Evans glanced in alarm at Dax and Sisko, then at the unconscious young man in their middle. "Is he okay?"

Slightly out of breath, Sisko just shook his head. He was literally lost for words. "We don't know yet. We found him inside on the second floor. He doesn't seem to be injured but..." he let the rest of the sentence taper off. They could discuss everything as soon as they were on safe ground. "He'll need medical attention. First we have to get back to the _Defiant_, I will explain everything later," he simply said.

Scowling, the elder captain nodded and without a further word, he stepped decisively forward and lifted Julian up in his arms. Even though he held the weight of a grown up man in his arms, Evans didn't so much as blink. His face had a sorrowful tint to it, like a man who had seen all too many of his comrades getting lost along the way. "Got you, Julian. Just hang on, you hear me," he commanded under his breath. And with a quick glance at the others, he said: "Let's get the hell out of here."

Unsure, Sisko turned one last time toward the old house, an unpleasant chill gripping his guts at the sight. Then he nodded. Somehow he had the bad feeling that this was just the beginning… He tried to shake it off. They were finally going home. For the time being he was just glad to turn his back on all of this.

"Signal to the _Defiant _that we're on our way."


	2. Chapter 10

- **Chapter 10 -**

"Sir, the _Hellas_ is hailing us. Captain Wieland would like to talk to you." The young Bajoran officer operating tactical severed the comm line he'd been holding and expectantly turned round to Constable Odo, obviously waiting for further instructions.

It had been a quiet and uneventful morning in OPS, most crewmen pursuing their duty in an absent stupor that reminded him in some way of a time long gone by. There hadn't been many ships today that requested docking permission to embark on the station – and even less ships that continued their journey from here onwards into the depths of Bajoran space and beyond. They'd spent most of the morning discussing minor security issues concerning the station's new docking procedures. The rest of the time he had just read the latest reports about the war, about victory and defeat in sectors not as far away from DS9 as he would have liked. Commander Tenner had wanted to discuss some further enhancements of their weapon phalanx on upper pylon three but had been called away by the never-ending complaints of an Andorian ambassador who had arrived on the station only yesterday. Glad about being the second person in charge, Odo had offered to take care of OPS while the commander went down to see for the hundredth time what exactly it was the ambassador was complaining about this time. It had been more than an hour since Odo had taken a seat at one of the technical stations to resume reading the latest reports that had come in this morning, casting a checking look around every now and then to make sure that everyone was still there in the unnatural, heavy quiet that lay over OPS like a bad omen. Only one more day. One more day and the _Defiant_ was expected to arrive back at the station.

"I'm in the Captain's office," the Constable replied briefly as he headed for the Captain's room some few steps above OPS. Thinking back on those days when Starfleet wouldn't even trust him with simple security matters, he couldn't help a triumphant snort. So much had changed since those days. So much had happened... He shook off the slight feeling of nostalgia and briskly stepped into the office, hurrying behind the black table in front of the viewport on which the omnipresent baseball was as always waiting for its owner's return.

Somehow he'd already known that the time of his first command wouldn't go so smoothly. He could only hope that the news he was about to hear from the _Hellas'_ commanding officer wouldn't prove as bad as he feared. Taking a seat behind the broad desk, he leaned back and quickly activated the monitor.

"Captain Wieland, what can I do for you?"

He was greeted by the image of a middle-aged man with slightly gray hair in a Starfleet uniform. The man's forehead was creased into a dark frown when he greeted the Constable with a short nod. So far the Constable had only once had the chance to talk to Captain Wieland in person. Three days had passed since the _Hellas'_ arrival at the station. Most of the time Commander Tenner had been in command of the station, so naturally most Starfleet matters had been discussed directly between the commander and Captain Wieland. Odo couldn't say he was overly bothered about this. He might be a shapeshifter, and he might even be – as Sisko had stated it – helpful with predicting the Dominion's next move as far as it was concerning the intentions of his people, but Starfleet military matters were far from being his metier. Studying the ill-boding look on the captain's face, he knew that something must have happened.

"Bad news, Constable," the captain announced solemnly without much preamble.

Odo folded both arms in front of his chest. "I figured as much," he said with a slight snort under his breath. "News always tend to go into that direction lately."

A swift chuckle drifted over the comm link as the other man nodded. "It's about the enemy activity along the Cardassian border. The Dominion has increased their number of ships. Without meeting trouble halfway: there's something going on out there. We still don't know what they're up to but some minutes ago I received a message from Starfleet. DS9 might be in danger in the very near future. To be honest: there seems to be trouble brewing on the horizon. Considering the fact that the _Defiant_ isn't here to protect the station, there couldn't be a better timing..."

"An attack?" Odo surmised, leaning forward.

"We don't know, yet. I just can tell you that some other ships have been ordered to join us as reinforcements. The first ship is estimated to arrive at the station in three days. Until then we'll be on our own, at least as long as the _Defiant_ hasn't made it back to the station. I think it's the best to keep our eyes open and be ready should the Dominion decide to try their luck on us... Talking of the _Defiant_, is there any news from Captain Sisko and his crew?"

Odo thought back to the conversation they'd had with the captain only hours ago. He hadn't wanted to take any unnecessary risk and kept the communication as short as possible, even though he'd been more than interested in what his friends had to report. "It seems that their mission was a success. Captain Sisko's word came in a few hours ago. They're on their way back to the station."

Captain Wieland nodded in obvious relief. "Fine. Let me know as soon as they're back. Until then, the _Hellas_ is at your command. Wieland out."

Switching out the monitor in front of him, the Constable absently leaned back. It was only one more day until the _Defiant_'s scheduled return to the station. He couldn't but hope that Captain Wieland's and Starfleet's suspicion would never prove true.

* * *

"Is he going to be alright?" The chief's question was simple and blunt, though he spoke for all of them, voicing their very concern, when he watched the young Trill administer another hypospray to the sleeping young man's neck. Following Dax' gaze to the readouts displayed on the small chart above the biobed, he wasn't sure he wanted her to answer.

Dax slowly shook her head, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features when she put the small device back on the table next to the bed. "I… don't know… I'm no doctor and so far we don't know what exactly happened to him. Hopefully we can tell as soon as we make it back to the station and can run a proper medical scan. But right now…" Turning absently toward the sleeping young man next to her, she added under her breath more to herself than to the chief, "…there's just nothing we can do."

"I see," O'Brien muttered barely audible and silently took a step closer to the biobed.

There he lay. His unconscious body covered under sickbay's typical blue sheets, he seemed so lifeless and pale, his face an expressionless mask devoid of any emotion. As far as he could see, the young man's bio readings seemed okay, though O'Brien was no expert in things like that. Ever since they'd made it back to the _Defiant_, Julian hadn't regained consciousness, only increasing the chief's worry that this time he never again would. He thought of it as irony of fate that the one person on this ship who needed medical attention most urgently now, was the only person that would have been able to give it under normal circumstances. Even more so as the first medical officer of the former _T'Hekal _had obviously been injured during the attack by the Dominion and hadn't made it out of captivity alive, leaving them with only two half-experienced Vulcan med-techs to give provisional medical care to the few cases that couldn't wait until their return to the station. Still, they'd been lucky enough that no one else was in any life-threatening condition. Most of _T'Hekal's_ former crew members were suffering from malnutrition and exhaustion, there had been cases of broken bones to mend or other minor injuries to heal. But all in all it could have been a lot worse... in many ways.

He vividly remembered Captain Evans materialize inside the transporter room, bracing the unconscious doctor and shouting for someone to bring an antigrav stretcher; and it was the sight of his friend being dragged from the transporter pad and eased down to the floor that had made O'Brien at first fear the worst. He'd thought that Julian hadn't made it out alive. He hadn't been able to do more than stand helplessly next to the transporter console, giving them as much room as they needed when Evans had fastened him to the stretcher, signaling to two of the other officers to bring the young man directly to sickbay while Sisko hurried off to the bridge to take again command of the _Defiant_. How glad had he been to learn later from Dax what had really happened, that Julian was still alive. Never had he imagined that anything like this could really happen. How often had they been in combat together. How often had they fought side on side. And never had it occurred to him that one day could come the moment of separation. Thinking back, he realized how naive he had been. So many battles, so much fighting, so many names that kept rattling down the display in the wardroom in thick columns every week. Only now he realized how lucky they had been. All of them.

Back on the bridge, Jadzia had told him all the details about the mission on Atholes III. How they had run into an ambush by the Jem'Hadar, how Julian and Fernandez had gotten separated from the others. How Dax and the others had still managed to get to the control room – and how their mission should have been doomed to failure when Julian hadn't been there to key in the security code. She'd told him how they had managed to free the prisoners all the same. And she'd told him about the moment they'd finally found Julian… in a state of shock, utterly withdrawn and confused. He couldn't imagine what could have happened to the young man but whatever it had been – it must have been severe.

Julian wasn't exactly the type to give up that easily. Despite everything that had happened in the past – after those five dire weeks in an internment camp of the Dominion, after the revealing of his genetic enhancements and his abduction by Section 31 – never had he given up hope, always managing to live up to his old self in the end. He remembered Julian once complaining about Garak's strong distrust and pessimistic way of looking at things, about Garak nagging at him about what a naive optimist Julian always was. O'Brien knew that Garak had hit the mark with those words. Over the years, Julian had gotten older, and gathered more experience. He was no longer the adventure-seeking, green youth fresh out of Starfleet Medical that used to get on his nerves so badly during all those first months aboard the station. Julian had grown up so much over the past few years – but never lost that typical naivete of his that allowed him to find hope in the darkest of places. What had it been that had happened and all of a sudden shaken him more profoundly than anything he had went through so far?

"I think it best to let him sleep until we make it back to the station. We still don't know how he'll react as soon as he regains consciousness." Dax' calm words pulled his thoughts back to the here-and-now. She hesitated a short moment, obviously uneasy. "I'd like to have a real doctor watch over him when he wakes up after all."

Standing in silence next to her, the chief managed a brief but encouraging smile. He could sense her tension, the helplessness of not being able to do anything. When Jadzia went over to run another test scan, O'Brien let out a long breath, he hadn't even been aware of holding. "Everything's going to be alright, Julian," he said as he lay one hand on the young man's shoulder and squeezed it gently. He knew how banal and empty his words must sound. They were his only comfort though.

"Chief, may I ask you to leave me and Commander Dax alone for a moment?" It was Sisko's voice, suddenly coming from the doorway. Startled, O'Brien turned. He hadn't noticed the captain enter.

With a last nod and a sorrowful glance back at the young doctor, O'Brien headed for the exit, leaving sickbay to his commanding officers. No sooner had the door closed behind his back, than Sisko came closer, a somber shadow crossing his tired features. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days, the exhaustion of the last hours still etched visibly onto his face. It was the first time that he'd been able to leave the bridge since their departure from Atholes III some hours earlier.

"How is he?" he asked when he came over to her.

Dax shook her head. "I wish I could tell. I ran several scans. He's well according to the circumstances. He doesn't seem to be seriously injured apart from some minor bruises he must have suffered in the fight with the Jem'Hadar. His condition is fairly stable. I gave him something to let him sleep until we reach the station..."

"Do we know what happened?"

"Some kind of mental shock, as far as I can assess. Though I'm at a complete loss what could have triggered it. I can't even tell how bad the situation really is or how much of an impact it will have as soon as he regains consciousness. The only thing I can say for sure is that there's no hint that anything happened to him physically..." She threw a thoughtful glance at the sleeping figure on the bed and absently bit her lower lip.

"I was afraid so," Sisko said with a dark frown when he propped himself on the biobed. "You were the last to see him. Did he show any signs that something was amiss before you got separated?"

"You mean before we were attacked by the Jem'Hadar?" Dax thought for a short moment. She shook her head, her face drawing into a contemplative frown. "No, not directly. But he _has_ been acting strangely lately. I wasn't sure if I should tell you. I wasn't even sure if I wasn't just imagining things or interpreting just too much into it."

Sisko arched one brow. "You mean what happened during dinner?" He had noticed Bashir's unusual behavior. As must have most likely all of them.

"It's not only what happened back then... he's been...," she tried to search for the right words, "...somehow not himself recently. He was so keyed up and irritated. Like something was bothering him but he wouldn't tell anyone. He even got upset every time anyone tried to talk to him about it. Chief O'Brien told me that he suspected him to haven't slept in days and to spend too much time hiding behind his work in the infirmary." She shook her head. "There definitely _was_ something occupying him..."

"Do you have any idea what it could have been that was bothering him? Did he mention anything to you?"

Again, Dax shook her head, her lips drawn into a thin line.

Sisko let out a long and heavy sigh, trying to sort through the chaos of information his mind had been flooded with during the last few hours. "Okay, even if we leave out the fact that there was obviously something wrong with him even before the incident occurred, that still doesn't answer the question: why now? Why would he suffer a mental shock so suddenly? Julian of all people? And what happened down there anyway?" Staring blankly in front of him, Sisko drew in a deep breath. "I don't like the idea, Old Man," he finally said. "Julian wasn't in any danger when we found him. There were no signs of a struggle, or any hint as to what could have prevented him to get back to you and the rest of the team after the incident with the Jem'Hadar. The apartment where we found him wasn't that far away from the control room. It shouldn't have been too difficult to get there in time..." He let out another slow breath and pressed his lips into a tight line, thinking. Dax had known him too long not to notice that particular expression of his, telling her clearly that behind his calm mask of authority he was brooding over something.

She didn't need to read his thoughts to know what was bothering him about the whole situation in which they had found Julian.

"We don't know what exactly happened during the fighting," Dax offered. "The last thing anyone saw of him was when he ran after Fernandez after she'd panicked. We don't know what happened next but obviously Julian and Fernandez were attacked a second time after they got separated from our group." Dax folded both arms in front of her chest. "What about Fernandez' death? We don't know in which way she died. He might have tried to save her. She could have been shot before his eyes and the whole event could have left him traumatized..." She knew how weak her argument was. Julian was a doctor after all. He was probably more used to suffering and death and had seen more of the cruelties of war than all of them.

Sisko shook his head, dismissing the idea. "I don't think that whatever happened to Julian had anything to do with the Jem'Hadar..." Sisko said at length. "And I don't think that it had anything to do with what happened to Ensign Fernandez, either..." he paused for a moment, glancing down at Julian. It were the young man's desperate words that were still nagging at the corner of his mind. He wouldn't have thought twice about it had they found him in any other condition. Had they found him hiding from the enemy – or had they even found him unconscious somewhere on the way – well, they'd just taken him with them back to the _Defiant_, relieved that he was still alive. But the situation down on the planet had left a bitter taste in an utterly unexpected way. And together with what Dax had just confided in him it gave an even darker picture.

"You saw him, Dax. It was like he was completely in his own world. He didn't even recognize us and … he was so scared. I've never before seen Julian so scared like back in that place. I don't think that he was aware of what was really going on around him at that time. He was clearly in a state of shock. It was like..." He paused, when he tried to bring his thoughts into the right words, "...like he was dreading us to come and punish him for something he thought he had done wrong." He shook his head in tired resignation. It didn't make sense. He could see absolutely no connection what anything of this should have to do with their mission on Atholes III. But still, Bashir's behavior had been too unsettling and the implications too serious to ignore.

A few moments of heavy silence passed between them, before Sisko finally spoke up again. When he did, his dark eyes squarely met hers. "I'll send a message to his parents." His voice was firm and grave, carrying that special tint she had grown used to recognize as boding ill for whatever came next.

Dax involuntarily frowned at his words. Her perplexed expression lingered only a second. "You think..." She let the rest of the sentence taper off though she knew very well what he was getting at.

Sisko decisively shook his head. "I don't know, Old Man. I'm not sure of anything. And I don't want to jump to conclusions, but as things are I cannot risk _not_ seeing deeper into this." His stare fixed hers, before he took another look at the readouts above the biobed. The tiny red spots were running up and down the chart in a steady rhythm.

He took a deep breath. "We cannot rule out any possibility. Something happened down in that place. Something that had him shaken so badly that he lost all sense of reality. You remember the place… it was a _child's _room. He sat crouching under a _child's_ desk." He stressed the last words as to underline their meaning. "You can call it coincidence. But there were no signs of Jem'Hadar around. Even if he and Fernandez got separated from your team, he wasn't hurt at that time. His first priority should have been to get to you and the control room. But he didn't. You know Julian as well as I do. He would be the last person to deliberately endanger our mission. He isn't the type to run away." Sisko shook his head. "He doesn't seem to be hurt and there didn't seem to be any immediate danger when we found him. Considering the condition we found him in..." He broke off and let his gaze wander down to the figure still lying asleep on the biobed. He couldn't help regard the young man all at once in a completely new and worrisome light. Recalling Bashir's miserable and haunted look, his eyes so fearful and pleading, he suddenly felt unspeakably sorry.

His brows furrowed further, until he finally voiced what had been hovering between them but what neither of them had dared to bring up so far: "He took us for his _parents, _Dax. He was begging us not to hurt him, crying like a frightened child."

In spite of herself, the young Trill shot him a quizzical and rather doubtful look. "Amsha and Richard Bashir don't seem to me like the kind of parents to lay a hand on their child..." She could still remember the first time she had met Julian's family in the captain's office one year ago. Julian had been startled or better say shocked to learn that his parents had arrived at the station on the invitation of Doctor Zimmerman. He'd been utterly unprepared when he'd awkwardly introduced them to her and his captain. But still, she found it hard to believe that Benjamin's words should be true...

"They were so happy and proud to see where their son was working...," Jadzia put in thoughtfully. "His father even went to prison to save Julian and his career..."

"But still there's a perceivable tension between the three of them. And he's never talked much about his family either."

The young Trill arched one brow. "What would you have done in his place? He's blaming them for having him genetically enhanced when he was still a child and didn't have any influence on their decision… and besides that, they seem to get along quiet well after all what happened."

Sisko ran his hand over his chin, apparently uneasy about his own suspicion. "I know, Old Man." His gaze remained firm when he said at length: "I'm not happy about it either. That's why I would like to send word to his parents and have them come to the station. I need to know what exactly happened down on the planet – and I need to know what Julian was so afraid of."

"What about Starfleet?" Dax gave back in concern.

The captain shook his head and locked his gaze with hers. "I haven't spoken about this with anyone else yet. At first, I'd like to have a talk to Julian's parents. Should it be that my suspicion proves true we still can call in Starfleet. Until then, take care of him. I'm on the bridge. If there's any news, let me know."

With those words he turned, heading out of sickbay and for the _Defiant's _bridge.

* * *

"Still no signs of pursuit, Sir."

Captain Sisko leaned heavily back in his commanding chair, his elbows propped on the armrests and his hands steepled in front of him. His gaze was fixed on the viewscreen in the front part of the bridge as if he were able to confirm Nog's words if he concentrated hard enough on the display that was now showing the rear view of the _Defiant_. "Anything on the sensors, Mr. O'Brien?"

"Negative, Sir. It seems as if the Dominion ships are still orbiting the planet. Another five ships have arrived since we left the planet. But there's no sign that they've realized where we've gone..."

"And it would be the best for all of us if it remained that way." The Vulcan's cool voice next to him was as sharp as a knife. Turning to face captain T'Lhan – who hadn't left his side ever since they had come back to the _Defiant – _Sisko had to keep his slowly rising anger at bay. After all what had happened he wondered where T'Lhan still drew that energy from to keep being annoying even after all what he had gone through in the last few weeks.

"How long will it take us to get back to Federation space?" The Vulcan asked in that smug way of his.

O'Brien cast a swift look at the readouts. "About five hours. With the cloaking device the rest should be as easy as a child's play."

"Keep your eyes open, Mr. O'Brien. It would be too sad if we got eliminated by a well-aimed hit to our defenseless back so near to our goal, wouldn't it?" The Vulcan's brow went up an inch.

With a short snort under his breath, O'Brien nodded. "Aye, Sir."

"Why isn't the Dominion following us?" Swiveling round to address no one in particular, Worf stared absently at the black viewscreen in front of them. "They've ordered their ships to the planet but they haven't moved an inch since then."

"Sensors are showing a gathering of Jem'Hadar ships near the fifth planet," Nog put in matter-of-factly, "though there's no sign of pursuit."

"Run a sensor sweep to confirm that no other cloaked ship is following us, Mr. Nog. I think I don't have to remind you that cloaking devices are not exactly a Starfleet invention." It was again T'Lhan who stood still rooted to the spot next to the captain's commanding chair.

Clamping down on the urge to have Worf escort T'Lhan down to his makeshift quarters, Sisko turned once again to the irritating Vulcan captain. It hadn't even been two hours ago that the man standing now so cooly in front of him, giving orders to a crew that was not even his own, had been rescued from a month-long captivity – but oddly enough there didn't seem to be any traces left of those last weeks, the man's wits obviously fully back in the race. He wondered if it was that typical Vulcan attitude that made him so calm and composed or if there was actually more behind the whole affair than Starfleet and Admiral Ross had made him believe. He still hadn't had time to have a more detailed discussion with the Vulcan captain about how exactly they had managed to hack their way into the enemy security system to bring down the force field. T'Lhan had been as willing to talk about the whole affair as if Sisko had tried to make the ore stacks down on the planet tell him what exactly the crew of the former Vulcan research vessel _T'Hekal _had been doing down there for the last month...

"Why don't you check on your crew, Captain T'Lhan? We'll inform you immediately, should any change in the present situation occur," Sisko suggested, now one brow arched as well.

The other man stared him directly into the face. Sisko wasn't sure but thought he detected the slightest hint of dissatisfaction in the other man's features. "I've got the right to be here on the bridge. I still _am_ Captain." His voice left no doubt that he meant what he said.

"Indeed," Sisko nodded. "But not of this ship." He met the Vulcan's cold stare squarely.

It was the way T'Lhan suddenly spun around, heading for the turbolift down to the lower level that gave Sisko the strange feeling of having made a mistake. Shaking his head, he sighed. He wouldn't even be surprised if T'Lhan turned out to be more than only the captain of a simple Vulcan research vessel. But still, they'd been through a lot those last days and any moment without T'Lhan's ill-boding look would be worth the trouble.

"Is it just my imagination or did you just insult him?" Kira asked, obviously amused.

Shrugging, Sisko arched one brow. "The man has a love for pessimism – and that is exactly what we don't need right now. Chief, still no signs of an interception maneuver?"

O'Brien's fingers flew over the console. "No, Sir. It seems as if the Jem'Hadar haven't noticed our escape so far. We'll already have made it into Federation space the time they'll be able to track back our ion sequence."

"Fine," Sisko finally said, for the first time allowing himself to relax just a bit. "Then let's hope for an easy flight."

* * *

When the bulkhead hissed open, revealing the small and brightly-lit sickbay, it took him some seconds until he finally willed himself to entered. Hearing the door close quietly behind his back, he lingered there for another moment, eventually bringing himself to advance some more steps into the quiet room. Apart from the few biobeds at each of the walls, the place was only sparsely furnished. Some racks containing basic medical equipment were lining the wall on one side, some unknown medical instruments were standing next to the entrance but beside those few things the place had an empty and cold feeling about it. He could remember once having read about the fact that the _Defiant _had originally been designed for the battle against the Borg, hence it was designed for combat rather than for the amenities of space travel. The silent beeping of a medical console was all that disturbed the heavy silence that filled the room. A swift glance around told him that he was alone.

Reluctantly, he stepped closer to the only occupied biobed to the left.

There he lay. The blue bed cover had been tugged gently over his sleeping body, and his arms were lying lifeless and limb atop of it to both sides. He could see his regular and even breath on the chart above the bed, could see the tiny red spots running up and down the length of it. His eyes were closed and his face was unnaturally pale, a stark contrast to his disheveled black hair that was hanging loosely about his forehead. His chest was rising ever so faintly with every breath he took, though besides that he didn't show any other sign of life. It was the first time that he saw him after what had happened down in the streets of Northport. He all at once looked so helpless and forlorn. So battered and fragile. And the sight sent an unexpected stab of pain through his heart.

His eyes fixed on the sleeping face, he ventured in a circle around the bed, until he finally came to a halt at his side.

He shouldn't have come. He should have stayed on the bridge until they'd made it back to the station. Of all stupid things he could have done, he shouldn't have come down here... But he just couldn't bring himself not to come. He had to be sure. And some inner instinct made him deaf to the rational part of his mind that was trying to tell him that he was so close to throwing away everything he had so desperately been working for in his life.

Still no one knew what had happened. He'd heard a few pieces of information from Sisko, some vague comments from Commander Dax. But no one had been able to tell him what had happened. What had really happened... No one seemed to know the reason for the young man's breakdown in the middle of the mission on Atholes III.

Bending over the biobed ever so cautiously, gazing in awful wonder at the sleeping and innocent face, he felt a surge of emotions. His stomach tightened painfully when his mind weighed the possibilities. Could it really be? What were the odds for something like this to happen? He didn't know. And he couldn't even be sure that it really _was_ happening. But still, this couldn't be a coincidence. Not here, not under these circumstances. Not after what Benjamin and Dax had told him.

He exhaled a long breath, trying in vain to organize his tumbling thoughts. He didn't know where to start. Reliving every moment of their short acquaintance, his hand almost absently reached down to the bed, his fingers wrapping softly around the young man's. Startled, he noticed how cold they were to the touch.

He drew in another sharp breath, closing his eyes to get his thumping heart back under control. He wasn't prepared for a moment like this. God, he'd never even imagined that anything like this could happen. He didn't know how to feel. For the first time in his long life he felt so utterly lost. He felt a whirl of emotions surge through him, unsure which of them to allow to unfold, afraid of which of them finally would.

If there was one thing he was able to grasp through the thick haze in his mind, it was that the situation had run out of control. He knew it with a dead certainty, like a sentence that was spoken before his eyes and ears, with him unable to influence the course of events. Thinking back, he realized with bitterness that he had never really been in control of anything in the first place. What fool had he been? How naive, how blinded had he been?

He suddenly felt his legs grow weak, and a wave of dizziness washing over him. If this was true, if this was really happening... The mere thought of it made his stomach turn and the ground beneath his feet start to lurch.

Grabbing the edge of the biobed for support, he fought back the surge of nausea – and the queasiness in his stomach. He wasn't sure if he could live through it again.

Reluctantly disengaging their hands, he swallowed down the lump in his parched throat. He took a deep and deliberate breath before he slowly straightened. _Try to concentrate on what's lying ahead_. It was like a mantra. It was what had helped him in the dire situations throughout his life. And it would help him now. _Try not to think about thing's you cannot change. Try to think about the future. That's all that counts right now._

When he finally felt strong enough again, he squared his shoulders. He would have to wait. There was nothing he could do right now. His hands were tied – as they had always been.

A faint hiss behind his back indicated another visitor to sickbay. For some seconds, his gaze lingered on the sleeping young man. Then he slowly turned.

"Captain Evans? Can I help you?" The young Trill asked in surprise when she saw him standing next to the biobed. She had her science bag slung over her shoulder, about to retrieve a PADD from the inside.

"No…," he slowly shook his head. "I... just wanted to check on Julian, that's all," he added nonchalantly. His lips drew into a faint smile when he asked: "When will we arrive at the station?"

Dax returned the smile genuinely. "In about 25 hours. Enough time to get some rest."

Evans nodded. "I think that's exactly what I need right now. It's been some hard days after all..." He threw a last glance back at the sleeping young man. "If you'll excuse me."

With another swift, reassuring nod, he briskly left the room. Only a few corridors and intersections later he'd made it to his quarters and sat down on his bunk with a heavy sigh, passing one sweaty palm over his forehead. His chest was aching, and his head throbbing with a dull pain. Absently contemplating his sweaty palms, he noticed that his hands had started to tremble. He flexed them and folded them, finally balling them into fists. What a fool he had been. His jaw tightened painfully as he stared blankly at the ceiling. If this was real, if this was really happening... then his worst nightmare was about to come true. And he could do nothing but anxiously wait for it to unfold.


	3. Chapter 11

- **Chapter 11 -**

"Captain, I'm glad to see you." Not sure which one of the two captains to address first, the constable nodded curtly toward both newcomers as they made their way into the Captain's office. Behind them, Starfleet and Bajoran personnel was milling about OPS, busy with running several diagnostic upon the _Defiant_ and preparing an overall check of the ship now that the _Defiant _and her crew had made it safely back to the station.

"Is there any news concerning the enemy activity along the Cardassian border?" Sisko asked straight ahead, moving behind the familiar black table in his office. Before he took a seat, he gestured for the Constable, Commander Tenner and Captain Evans to sit down as well. Squaring his shoulders and propping himself on his elbows on the desk, he waited for the Commander to elaborate on the latest news.

"The situation hasn't changed much since your departure, Sir. There was a report this morning that came in from Starfleet, stating that DS9 might be in danger in the very near future. Admiral Ross has already ordered additional ships to the border in case of an emergency. But honestly, I don't think Starfleet is really prepared for a possible assault. The fourth and fifth fleet are still patrolling the Romulan border. It'll take some time for them to get here…" Commander Tenner started, handing Sisko a PADD with all necessary information. The Captain took it and threw a quick glance at the summary.

_So this made DS9 the center of attention in the event of a possible assault. Why had no one seen this coming? They should have been prepared for a situation like this. _Quoting his dad, it was like getting out of the frying pan and into the fire.. "What alternatives do we have?"

Odo folded both arms across his chest. "The _Hellas_ is the only ship fit for combat that is any near the station. The _Victoria_ and the _Qalmoh_ won't be able to reach the station until after two more days, General Martok in three. There are some smaller Klingon and Federation freighters in the vicinity of DS9 though they won't last very long in a battle should the Dominion decide to take the chance and attack the station..." He refrained from any further remark for he knew he didn't have to point the seriousness of the situation out to Sisko. They had a problem. And this time it wasn't going to be solved that easily.

"I see...," Sisko muttered under his breath, one hand thoughtfully at his chin.

"Captain Wieland says he's at your command, Sir."

Sisko nodded, then turned to Evans. The elder captain had kept rather silent ever since their return from Atholes III. He seemed a lot more drained by the recent events than the rest of the crew, all at once looking twice his age. Every now and then his gaze would take on a faraway look as if his mind were still on the planet, back to a life from which he once had been torn out so abruptly... Sisko couldn't even begin to guess how Evans must be feeling in this very moment, having yet again lost what he had never wanted to give up in the first place. To his credit, the captain was professional enough to let none of his private feelings get in the way of his work.

"What about you, Robert? Now that our mission is over there's nothing that holds you on the station any longer – unless you want to keep us company a little longer."

Evans nodded. His face had lost some of its color though the boyish smile that crept across his lips made Sisko involuntarily recall the first time he'd met the older captain. Despite his obvious exhaustion, he still radiated the same aura of authority, the same reassuring feeling. "If it's okay for you, I'd like to prolong my stay on DS9. If there really should be an attack by the Dominion, space around Bajor won't be safe anyway. I'd be glad to be of help," he offered.

"I'd be glad to have you along, Robert," Sisko nodded. And he really was.

"What about the crew of _T'Hekal_?" Odo threw in at length.

"Most of them are well according to the circumstances. We have some cases of minor injuries and broken bones, most of all malnutrition... According to Captain T'Lhan, most casualties were suffered when the ship was taken over by the Jem'Hadar. They lost only a few crewmen in the four weeks of captivity after that. I'd say they were lucky that things didn't turn out worse. Captain T'Lhan's men are still in the infirmary of the _Hellas_," the Captain reported briefly.

"I see." The constable's face fell somber. He'd already been informed by Sisko some hours prior to the _Defiant_'s return that there would be wounded to take care of. He had been asked to prepare everything to get them directly to the infirmary of the _Hellas _and inform the ship's chief medical officer Dr. Frejir to coordinate the triage of the incoming wounded as their own CMO was currently not able to pursue his duty.

"How is Dr. Bashir?" Odo propped himself on his knees.

Sisko leaned back. Somehow he would have preferred to avoid just that question. "We don't know yet. He's still in the infirmary..."

"Dr. Frejir to Captain Sisko."

"Sisko here. Go ahead."

"I've finished the scans. Could you please come down here as soon as the situation allows it?"

The doctor's voice over the comm link was rough and gray, as had been his impression when Sisko had first met him an hour earlier on board of the _Hellas_. Sighing, Sisko nodded.

"I'll be there in a minute. Sisko out."

When he laboriously rose from his chair, he turned to Commander Tenner and Odo. "I'll be in the infirmary. Robert, you like to join me?"

About to head out into OPS, Sisko realized that Evans was hesitating. He thought he could see a small flicker of indecision on the older captain's face, though it vanished so quickly that Sisko wasn't even sure if it had been there at all. Slowly, Evans shook his head, smiling. "It's okay, Ben. You go first. I don't want to stand in the way anyway. But I'll come down with you to the promenade."

With a short nod, Evans got to his feet and excused himself from the other two officers. Starting for the door, he didn't seem to feel Sisko's slightly confused gaze follow his back as he went down the few steps to the lower level. Shrugging, the younger Captain finally followed, wondering if it was only his imagination or if the room temperature had actually dropped some degrees in the last few minutes…

* * *

Doctor Frejir threw a last assessing glance at the display above the biobed before he finally bent down to administer the hypospray to his patient's neck. Only a few seconds after the familiar hiss had faded, the young man's eyelids fluttered, and another second later he jerked awake.

"Sssh, easy now, Dr. Bashir," the other doctor said soothingly, both hands already on the young man's shoulders to prevent him from getting up too quickly. "You're safe. Relax." His words were calm and reassuring, but also carried the unyielding tone of a command.

With no strength to defy the older man's orders, Julian let his head drop heavily back against the pillow. A soft groan made it past his lips, when he closed his eyes and tried to turn his face to the side, away from the infirmary's crude light.

"Can I speak to him?"

Doctor Frejir nodded reluctantly, the deep lines of his weathered face drawn into a faint contemplative frown. Wordlessly, he stepped to the side to give Sisko as much room as he needed. "I can't promise he'll recognize you just yet, but still you should try." Then he added more sternly: "But don't ask too much of him. Even if his bio readings have dropped back to normal by now, he's still in shock. It'll take some time for him to recover from whatever happened…" With those meaningful words he turned, retreating to the back part of the infirmary.

Thanking the older doctor for his mindfulness, Sisko went over to the biobed. He could still vividly remember the moment when they had found Julian. Had it already been two days since their departure from Atholes III? He wondered where time had gone. Not sure what to expect, or how the young man would react now that he had regained consciousness, he thought it best to try not to scare him any more than necessary and crouched down until his face was level with Bashir's. The young man's eyes were half open – though it was as if he looked right through Sisko, his gaze emotionless and empty. He still looked way too pale, his features as tired and worn as if he'd come right out of battle. Dark disheveled hair was framing a face that was drawn into a slight grimace, as if he were in pain. For a short moment Sisko wasn't sure if he should call back Dr. Frejir.

"Julian, can you hear me?" He reached for the young man's hand, gently squeezing it to draw Julian's attention. "Do you know where you are?"

With great effort he seemed to focus on Sisko, though there was still no hint of recognition his gaze. After what felt like an eternity he finally spoke.

"DS…9…" His voice, barely more than a hoarse whisper, sounded as weak as he looked.

Not sure how much Bashir was able to remember of the incident, he mused on how to start. "We made it, Julian. We were able to free the prisoners and destroy the Dominion complex," the captain finally said, trying to force the most reassuring smile on his lips. "We were worried about you. When you didn't come to the control room, we went searching for you…"

He could tell from Bashir's shimmering eyes that the young man barely grasped the meaning of his words. His gaze was so full of sadness and longing, making Sisko involuntarily wonder if his thoughts were still there, back in the small room where they had found him... But at least he seemed to be aware of where they were. It was more than he could have hoped for. Even though everything in him was urging him to find out what had really happened to the young man, he had to concede that at least for now, Julian wouldn't be able to give him the answers he was seeking. Smiling, he gently squeezed Bashir's hand once more. "Get some rest. We can talk later."

When Bashir closed his eyes in exhaustion, the Captain drew himself up, and absently straightened his uniform. It was when he turned that he saw Dr. Frejir standing at the far end of the infirmary, watching them intently with his gray eyes. When their gazes met, the older doctor beckoned Sisko to follow him into the back part of the infirmary to where Julian's office had been. _Still was,_ he reminded himself. No sooner were they out of earshot than Dr. Frejir suddenly spun around. "Of all gods, what happened?" It was hard not to notice the tinge of sorrow in the elder doctor's voice. His face, edged with deep lines and the grave experience of a man who had seen all too much suffering and misery in his life, drew into a dark grimace.

"How is he?" Sisko put in a question of his own.

The older doctor shook his head, his lips pressed into a tight line when he seemed to consider his next words. "He's on the mend, if this is what you mean. His body, as well as his mind, are still in shock after whatever happened. But he's recovering. It will still take some time until he will be back to his old self – but he's over the worst. I gave him something that will ease most of the emotional turmoil he's going through at the moment." He sighed in what seemed like resignation. "But there's something else I'm more worried about, Captain Sisko."

When Dr. Frejir locked his dark eyes with his, Sisko got the bad feeling that his suspicion might have hit home after all. "After all I've seen, and after all you have told me about Dr. Bashir's condition when you found him, what your doctor is going through at the moment, seems to me very much like the aftereffects of a psychological trauma. And a very severe one that is," Dr. Frejir arched one brow. "I've never seen anything like this before. Not in this intensity."

"What do you mean?"

Dr. Frejir leaned back against the computer console, folding both arms across his chest. His gaze was fixed somewhere at the far end of the room, his voice calm and thoughtful when he spoke. "A psychological trauma, as we call it, is an emotional phenomenon that can occur whenever an individual's perception of the world, or the feeling of safety, is shaken so badly that it leaves the person in question unable to cope with whatever happened to him or her. The event becomes an emotional burden, a traumatic experience. There's a long list of things that could qualify as cause for a psychological trauma. Not every individual does experience the same event in the same way and what might leave one person deeply shaken might not even touch the other. However, there _are_ some typical cases that often lead to trauma. I'm talking about the loss of a close friend or a family member for example, or the experience of physical violence. In my profession as a doctor, I've dealt with many cases, Captain. Especially since the _Hellas_ has been at the front for far too long..." Dr. Frejir arched one brow as he finally turned to Sisko. "Most of the cases aboard the _Hellas_ were directly related to the war against the Dominion, to the loss of a friend in battle or the anxiety and fear of battle situations. But you may not forget that often, the effects of a trauma may not emerge until long after the original traumatic event occurs, either because the event isn't recognized as such – or in a few cases – is being suppressed by the person in an unconscious effort of self-protection. This is often the case whenever the cause for the person's trauma can be found in an early stage of the person's life."

"...like in childhood?" Sisko asked in a flat voice.

Dr. Frejir nodded. "Yes, indeed. Whenever a traumatic event occurs this early in a person's life, it is literally bound to emerge again some time sooner or later. Let's put it this way: The earlier in life a person is confronted with a situation that leaves him or her with an emotional scar, the more of an impact this will have on the individual's later life. It also means that if the event is being suppressed and the person suddenly confronted with a situation that forces him or her to deal with it, the effect can be devastating. In the worst case it can lead to a dramatic impact on the person's sense of reality..."

Sisko held the other doctor's gaze. "I'm not sure if I'm ready to accept this as an explanation for Dr. Bashir's present condition. He's never before shown signs that he's suffering from any kind of trauma. Whatever happened, happened literally out of the blue."

Dr. Frejir nodded, retrieving one of the PADDs from the diagnostic table. He tapped it on and handed it to Sisko. "I've run several scans," he said in grim tones. "His mental condition is not the only one that is alarming. It was a wonder he didn't suffer a physical breakdown first. He's overtired and his blood sugar level is far too low. He seems to have suffered an unnatural amount of stress lately. His cortisol level has dropped back to normal by now but judging from the scans your Commander Dax took yesterday it must have been pure adrenaline that had kept him going during the last hours prior to the incident." Dr. Frejir paused a moment to let his words sink in. He offered no further remark, though his words cut sharp as a knife. "His physical weak condition had without doubt contributed to making reliving the traumatic experience as devastating as it was. His mind was literally overwhelmed by his own memories and the concomitant emotions. The subsequent overload of his neural pathways was what finally sent him into mental shock."

Sisko glanced over the report. A dark shadow fell on his face when he studied Dr. Frejir's statement. "According to your experience," he reluctantly began, "when do you think the traumatic event could have happened? What time window are we talking about?" He thought he already knew the answer, but he had to ask all the same.

Dr. Frejir seemed to consider his next words for a long moment. Then he nodded. "Judging from the seriousness of his condition, I'd say that whatever happened happened a long time ago, most likely some time in his early childhood." Unfolding both arms in front of his chest, Dr. Frejir drew a deep breath. "As a physician, I am afraid that I can't leave this matter be, Captain. I think it best to have a counselor talk to him as soon as he's better. It'll take some time until the impact of the memories will lessen but in one or two days he should have recovered far enough to talk with him about the incident..."

Sisko nodded. He met Dr. Frejir's gaze squarely. He knew that the elder man hadn't addressed the real problem that lay behind the whole situation, although he most likely was aware of it and trusted in Sisko to take further things into his hands. "I will see to it."

"Fine," Dr. Frejir said, casting a short glance back to the infirmary. "As long as the _Hellas_ is around the station, I'll have a watchful eye on Dr. Bashir – though I don't think it's my healing hands he needs right know."

About to speak up, Sisko was interrupted by the sudden chirp of his combadge. "Kira to Captain Sisko."

"Sisko here. Go ahead, Major."

"The Freighter _Kenal _is hailing us for docking permission." The Bajoran's voice came over intercom. "I thought you would like to know."

They had arrived ahead of schedule. But it didn't really matter. The sooner he brought it over with, the better. "Very well," he said more to himself than Kira. "Have them come to my office as soon as they've embarked. And contact Commander Dax to tell her to meet me in OPS. Sisko out." Turning to Dr. Frejir, he still felt his gaze heavy on him. He quickly apologized to the elder man. "Thank you for our advice, Doctor. If you'll excuse me. I'll be back later."

Then he left the infirmary, heading for the next turbolift to the upper level.

* * *

Captain Benjamin Sisko sat, hands steepled in front of him, behind the desk of his office and cast a dark look toward the still closed door to OPS. He wasn't sure he was ready to face the truth, but if he wanted to help Dr. Bashir he needed some answers. Even if he wouldn't like them.

He could make out the young Trill's slender form even before the doors parted to allow her and the two persons in her wake into the room. She offered a short smile in greeting, then positioned herself next to him, hands clasped calmly behind her back. When their guests finally entered the Captain's office, he forced himself not to draw any premature conclusions. Gesturing to the two vacant seats in front of the desk, he decided to begin with light conversation to break the ice.

"Mr. and Mrs. Bashir," he began formally, shaking hands with the newcomers. "Nice to meet you again. I'm glad you could manage to come to the station in so short notice."

It had been over one year since he'd last seen them. He could still vividly remember the moment when both of them had been led into his office by Dax in a very similar way - and how Julian had awkwardly introduced them to him. Even then had he felt the subtle tension between the three of them. He could only hope that the secret of Julian's illegal genetic enhancement had been the only reason for the family's disharmony at that time.

"Captain Sisko," Amsha Bashir acknowledged him with one of her friendly smiles when she took a seat next to her husband. Sisko didn't miss the faint flicker of tension in her expression, though. Neither did Dax.

"I'm glad you were allowed to come here," Sisko addressed Richard Bashir. "When I asked Starfleet for the favor, I wasn't sure if they would agree to it."

"I was told that my attendance on DS9 was urgent," Richard offered, his voice carrying more than just a simple statement. Sisko hadn't told the Bashirs the real reason for their visit on the station, yet. Why he'd insisted they come all the long way to the outer space of Bajor instead of talking to them over subspace. He knew that Richard's distrust was more than justified. The long journey from Earth had given them plenty of time to paint a vivid picture of what horrific event could have happened that required their immediate personal attendance on the station.

"It's about Julian, isn't it?" Amsha asked straight ahead, her dark eyes shifting from Sisko to Dax and back.

When neither of them gave an answer, Richard put in: "What happened this time? Is he okay?"

Sisko shook his head, his gaze fixed on both newcomers. "He's well – according to the circumstances. He's in the infirmary right now." Even though he very well knew that he gave them even more reason to worry, he didn't elaborate on their son's condition. First he needed some answers.

"What happened to him?" Amsha was sitting straight in her seat, as if she was pulling herself together not to let her real anxiety show. Richard's expression at her side was no less tense. It was hard to believe that those two persons now sitting full of worry in front of him should be responsible for Julian's present condition. It just didn't fit...

Inhaling deeply, he once more squared his shoulders. He waited a long moment, before he finally spoke.

"Mr. and Mrs. Bashir, before I can tell you more about you son's condition, I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind." He didn't wait for them to answer. "Last year, when the truth about Julian's genetically enhanced status came out, you told me that your son hadn't been aware of the genetic enhancements until he found out about his background when he was fourteen..."

"Fifteen," Richard corrected.

Sisko nodded. "Fifteen then. As a parent, I can imagine that it must have been a difficult time. For you and your son."

Richard's lips drew into a humorless smile. He shook his head. "It was indeed. You know how stubborn he can be. Believe me, Captain Sisko, you wouldn't have wanted to trade places." The older Bashir sighed. Sisko thought he heard a hint of bitterness in the older man's voice when he finally said: "He was so furious when he found out. He refused to talk to me for more than a week. But the worst part of it was that he was so disappointed. He had always been best in his class – and than he had to learn that all his success had been based on a lie..." Richard let out another long sigh, shaking his head as to get rid of unpleasant memories.

"But how was it before he found out about his secret? How was Julian as a boy?"

Amsha's face took on a faraway look. Then she smiled. It was a warm and genuine smile, in that charming way of hers. "He was a lively boy, Captain Sisko. Always ready to discover something new. He was so full of life that it was sometimes hard for us to keep up with all his adventures."

Sisko cast Dax a quick glance. Then he nodded. "So you say you never had any problems with Julian during his childhood – it all started when he found out about the genetic engineering when he was a teenager?"

Richard's eyes narrowed. "Not really, no. And even after he found out about the treatment, it wasn't always like in the first weeks – or in the last four years. We..." he shrugged, "...Jules and I sometimes just had different ideas of what was best for him."

Again, the captain nodded. "I see."

It was then that Richard Bashir leaned forward, propping himself on his knees. "Captain Sisko, may I ask what is going on. What does this have to do with what happened to Jules?"

Inhaling deeply, Sisko locked his eyes with his. "Mr. Bashir, have you ever hit your son?"

He noticed the confused look in Amsha's dark eyes upon his words – and Richard's deeply knitted brows.

"What do you mean by that?" Richard retorted bluntly, as if he weren't able to make the connection between the captain's earlier words and the last question that seemed so utterly out of place.

"I want to know: have you ever hit Julian during his childhood?"

Richard eyed Sisko suspiciously. After a long pause, he shook his head. "No," he stated calmly. "What makes you think so?"

"We have reason to believe that your son is suffering from a severe psychological trauma. We're still at a loss of what exactly triggered the memories after such a long time. The only thing we know is that your son couldn't have been very old at that time..." Sisko didn't elaborate on his words, though the effect they had on Bashir's parents was hard not to notice.

Amsha instinctively reached for Richard's hand. Her husband's countenance didn't betray any feelings, though his grip around the edge of the chair palpably tightened. It took a long time until he finally spoke. "So if I get you right," he stated slowly, not taking his eyes off the captain, "you're suspecting us to have... _abused_ our son? Is that what you mean?"

Sisko knew that his next words were decisive. "No, that's not what I want to say."

"But it's what you think, isn't it?" Richard stated in an icy voice. His face was suddenly hot with emotion, despite his obvious effort to keep his emotions at bay.

"My opinion is of no importance, Mr. Bashir. The only thing I definitely know is that your son had a psychological breakdown some time earlier. He's in the infirmary now – withdrawn, scared and completely disoriented. He's lost all sense of reality. I can't make any sense of it but perhaps you can." Sisko knew that he was almost crossing the line. He had to choose his words carefully. After all, he didn't have any proof yet.

"What happened?" Amsha wanted to know, the shock clearly visible on her face. Her eyes were wide and unbelieving.

"Amsha!" Richard shot her an angry glance, though she didn't pay attention.

Dax stepped closer to Captain Sisko. Her voice was gentle when she said: "We were on a mission on a planet called Atholes III, a former Starfleet colony that had been abandoned due to political reasons a few decades earlier. The _Defiant_ was ordered to destroy a secret weapons factory and cloning facility of the Dominion in the vicinity of the largest of the former settlements on the planet." Waiting for a short acknowledging nod from Sisko, she continued: "During our mission on the planet we got separated. When Julian didn't come to our expected meeting point, we went searching for him. He was alive when we finally found him. He had obviously taken cover in one of the deserted apartments..." Her lips drew into a narrow line. "When we found him, he was hiding in the dark. He was crying with fear and in a state of shock."

The color visibly drained from Amsha's face. It obviously took her a great deal of effort to keep her voice steady. "What did Jules do there?"

Richard threw his hands up in defense. "Why do you suppose that this has something to do with us?"

Sisko didn't so much as blink. "Because he took us for his parents. He was crying and begging us not to hurt him, apologizing over and over again for something he thought he had done wrong…"

He could see how Richard struggled to retain his composure. "I don't know what happened on that planet but whatever it was, we've never lain a hand on Jules. We've never done anything that might have caused him harm," he said firmly, his jaw tightening.

"We love Jules, Captain Sisko. Please believe us. We'd never..." Amsha's eyes were pleading, her gentle features drawn into a painful grimace.

Sisko sighed. This was exactly what he had been afraid of. He'd known that things wouldn't go that easily. Even if what he suspected was true, had he really expected the Bashirs to tell him about those dark events in Julian's past? But on the other side, what if their words were true? What if Julian's present condition was not due to some childhood trauma as Dr. Frejir had said… If all of this was just a misunderstanding, he was doing the Bashirs more than wrong.

"Listen, I can understand your consternation but I can't rule any possibility out. As I said, we don't know what happened, yet. And we still don't know how we can help your son. That's why I sent for you to come to the station in person. It might take some time to find out what really happened, but until then I'd like you to stay on the station. I'll have some quarters arranged for you," Sisko said, this time more gently.

"May I see him?" Amsha suddenly spoke up. Richard just kept staring silently out the viewport where the small white points kept streaking by ever so slowly.

"I don't know if this is a good idea in his present condition, Mrs. Bashir," Sisko said.

"We're his parents and we have the right to see him!" Richard gave back dryly.

"Richard!" Amsha's whisper was more a warning hiss. Then she turned to Sisko: "I just want to see him for a moment. Please, Captain Sisko!"

Sisko locked his eyes with Dax'. The young Trill nodded. "I'll accompany you to the infirmary."

While Amsha and Richard Bashir got to their feet, following Dax out of his office, Sisko had to force himself to let out the breath he'd been holding ever since he'd brought up that delicate topic. He couldn't blame them for their reaction. He was sure he would have reacted in the very same way had it been about him and Jake…

It was not until the three of them had finally left OPS, heading toward the lower level of the promenade, that Sisko dared take another breath. He kept staring into the direction they'd vanished into even after the turbolift had carried them out of view.

Something was wrong…

He didn't know what it was and he didn't think they were lying to him in regards to their son. But some bad feeling told him that there was more behind the whole matter than they wanted him to believe. He had seen the shock on Amsha's face when he mentioned what had happened on Atholes III. And not only shock. Had it been… recognition? Shaking his head, he ran a sweaty hand over his head. Something was wrong... he just didn't know what it was yet. For the time being he could only wait for Dr. Bashir's condition to improve. Perhaps then they'd have the chance to learn what really happened...

Sighing, he turned. Nothing was ever easy.

* * *

He lay on his side, curled up into a fetal position under the infirmary's typical blue sheets. From her angle, it was hard to tell if he was awake or still asleep. He seemed to be the only patient in the elsewise quiet infirmary. All the other biobeds were empty.

"Just go over to him," the doctor at her side encouraged her with a friendly smile. "I can't promise he'll recognize you, but his condition is getting better with every hour."

She tried in vain to force a smile on her lips in response. When she followed the doctor's advice and slowly walked over to where he lay, he suddenly stirred. He must have heard her footsteps, turning his head in her direction at the sudden sound. Sometimes she just forgot how different he was from others…

When she stepped closer, he struggled to sit up. Only a few seconds later she was at his side, lending him a helping hand to bring him in an upright position. When their eyes met, it made a sharp stab of pain run through her heart when his gaze fell right through her.

He looked so different. His eyes, once of a sparkling brightness full of life, were now filled with a dull emptiness that made a cold chill run through her. It was in this moment that Amsha knew that something deep within him had broken. His gaze was so full of sadness and helpless suffering that the only thing she could do for him in that very moment was to draw him into a soft embrace.

Gently, she leaned his head against her shoulder, stroking affectionately over his dark hair. He didn't offer any resistance – but didn't return the embrace either. It hurt so much to see him like this. Slowly, she released her arms around him, bringing some distance between them. His face didn't offer the slightest hint of a smile...

"Jules… I'm…" Tears were beginning to form in the corner of her eyes and she swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in her throat. "I'm so sorry, Julian…"

She didn't know if he understood her words, if he knew who she was and where they both were. He avoided facing her, just kept staring wordlessly to the ground at her feet. Her hand found his and gently wrapped around it. Squeezing it softly, she forced a desperate smile on her lips. "It'll be okay, Julian. Everything's going to be alright. Do you hear me? Everything's going to be alright." She gave him another embrace, holding him tightly, before she reluctantly let go of him.

Wiping at the tears that had already started to force their way down her cheeks, she pulled herself together, and finally turned. Spotting Dr. Frejir in the back part of the infirmary, she walked over to where the older man was already waiting for her. He gently took her by the elbow as if to steady her.

"Will he be okay?" was all she brought forth.

The older man hesitated, but nodded then. "It'll still take some time until he makes a full recovery," he tried to offer comfort, escorting her to the door. "I know that it's hard for you but give him time. He'll be better soon, I promise."

She managed a nod. Stepping out onto the busy promenade, Richard – who had been waiting silently next to the infirmary's entrance – joined her, his face tense. _It'll still take some time until he makes a full recovery_, the doctor's voice echoed in her mind. _That is _if_ he makes a recovery,_ she thought bitterly. _But what if not…?_

* * *

"An iced Raktajino for the lady and a soaking blood wine for the gentleman." Quark grinned his broad, toothy grin when he placed both beverages briskly before them on the table. "And what can I get you, Major?"

"I'm fine, Quark. Thanks."

The Ferengi just shrugged, about to bring his empty tray back to the bar. Then he stopped in mid-stride. "And before I forget: congratulation to the success of your mission. I'm sure Starfleet is very proud of you." With that, the Ferengi bar tender made his way whistling back to the counter where Morn was sitting at his usual place, nursing the drink he seemed to have ordered half a day earlier.

"Captain Sisko received a message from Admiral Ross this morning, expressing Starfleet's sincere gratitude for the success of our mission. But I'm sure Benjamin will hold a briefing later to inform us directly about the good news," Dax pointed out casually, taking a sip of the cold, brown liquid.

"I don't know if I'm the only one but – somehow it doesn't really feel like a success... I mean, we were more than lucky that things turned out as they did. When I saw that force field behind Captain Sisko, I was ready to accept the fact that this time we wouldn't make it out alive... I'm still not sure if I can understand what happened. If it hadn't been for that damned smug Vulcan Captain we would be as dead as the Jem'Hadar by now," Kira remarked with a good deal of sarcasm when she rested her elbows on the table.

Dax nodded. "I know what you mean. The whole story sounds rather… too good to be true. But still, we don't know what the crew of the former _T'Hekal_ had really been doing there. As far as I heard from Benjamin, Captain T'Lhan and his crew had wanted to be prepared if they ever got the unlikely chance to escape from the prison camp. According to T'Lhan, _T'Hekal_'s former crew had long before managed to gain access to the power grid of the site but hadn't been able to make any use of it as there was no way for them to get away from Atholes III on their own..."

"It's not so unlikely as you think," Worf put in calmly as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "According to Captain Evans, the former ore-processing facility had an internal mechanism to shut down the energy supply in the event of an emergency inside the complex. As it is not part of the regular security system, the Jem'Hadar weren't aware of the mechanism's existence."

Dax shook her head. "I guess we should be glad for Captain T'Lhan's hidden talents. If it hadn't been for him, we'd never been able to take the force field down in time."

A long, heavy silence fell on the three of them when they involuntarily thought about what could have been, had things turned out differently... Then, Kira all of a sudden leaned forward, folding both hands as if she wasn't sure what to do with them.

"How is he?" she finally asked in a grave tone that left no doubt about whom she was speaking. So far only Dax and the captain had seen him in the infirmary after he'd regained consciousness. She'd heard some few things about the incident from Chief O'Brien, though he hadn't really been able to tell her more than she already knew. No one knew the reason for Bashir's breakdown on Atholes III – and what was even worse: none of them knew how bad the situation really was. After all Dax had told her earlier on board of the Defiant, and after the reluctance with which Captain Sisko was talking about the event, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was going on.

Dax took another sip before she placed the drink back on the table, considering how much she could tell her friends. "He's well according to the circumstances. He' still disoriented and withdrawn, but he seems to be on the mend. At least according to Dr. Frejir's opinion."

Kira shot her a probing look. "And? What happened?" When Dax kept silent for another moment, Kira tried again. "Captain Sisko has sent for Julian's parents. They arrived on the station this morning. What's this all about?"

For another moment, Jadzia hesitated, then looked from Kira to Worf and back. Finally she settled for the truth. They were his friends after all.

"After all we know, Julian seems to be suffering from... the aftereffects of a psychological trauma," she started solemnly. "Dr. Frejir seems to be certain that whatever was the cause for the trauma must have happened some time in his early childhood. He says that most likely Julian had suppressed the event or that he had forgotten about it until something on Atholes III made him remember. The result was that Julian's mind was flooded with traumatic memories that led to a complete psychological breakdown..." Her grip around the mug tightened. "The problem is: no one knows what exactly happened. Julian is in no condition to have a reasonable conversation with – and there is practically nothing that would tell us what triggered those memories, or what they are about anyway." She paused. "Benjamin is now going into the matter. That's why he let Julian's parents come to the station."

"And?" Kira leaned anxiously forward.

Dax shook her head in resignation. "Nothing. We've come as far as at the beginning." She held back from elaborating on the details of the incident. Up to this point there was no proof for Benjamin's suspicion. "According to Dr. Frejir, he seems to be on the mend. After some more days he might be able to talk about what happened. Then we'll know more."

Kira nodded absently, even though she didn't look very convinced. "I heard Captain Evans will stay with us a little longer?" she suddenly changed the topic, trying to lift the gloomy mood that had so suddenly descended upon their little meeting.

Dax lips drew into a smile. "Actually, yes. He's asked for permission to prolong his stay on the station this morning."

Kira chuckled. "That means we'll have time for some more storytelling before he has to go back to Earth." Then she became serious again. "Talking about Captain Evans, has anyone seen him lately? I don't know if it is just my imagination but somehow he's kept very much to himself after our departure from Atholes III."

"He'll need time for himself. After all, he was confronted with a painful part of his past," Worf put in with a seriousness that startled them both.

"I guess you're right," Dax finally sighed, swaying the mug of Raktajino absently in her hands. "Somehow this whole mission has turned out in a way no one really expected..."

* * *

He lay awake. Eyes closed against the threatening darkness around him, he silently tried to get his thumping heart back under control, sucking in deep breaths to calm himself. His stomach was a mess of queasiness, as it had been ever since those horrible moments. When his world had all at once and without forewarning shattered into hundreds of thousands of pieces. A world that had seemed finally safe and intact again – until the moment when everything had turned upside-down. He still felt his body tremble at the mere thought of what had happened.

He couldn't remember anything but the pain – the helplessness and despair.

The last thing he was able to recall seemed like nothing more than a fragment of a dream. Everything that had happened before he'd woken to find himself where he was lying now was nothing more than some blurred memory, a chaos of images and feelings. Curling up even tighter under the soft blanket one had gently tugged over his sleeping body, he hugged both arms around his abdomen. He couldn't remember anything in detail. Not how he came here or why he was lying there, least of all what had happened. The only thing he remembered was that dim room, the picture, him crouching desperately in the shadow. His chest was still filled with the same icy dread that made it hard for him to breath. It was a feeling so heavy and consuming that he desperately wished for someone to be there next to him.

And there had been someone. Even hours after she'd come to see him, his mind was still frantically searching for an explanation.

But he couldn't find one.

She'd been with him. His mother had been there, all of a sudden, gathering her shivering son up in her arms. He didn't know why she'd been there but in that very moment he had so desperately wanted to return her gentle embrace. He'd so wanted to fold his arms around her, to cling to her warmth and to forget everything around. He needed her. He needed her warmth and security for it was the only thing that would protect him from getting lost completely in the chaos of feelings that was filling his mind, dragging him ever farther back into that dark room in his memory.

But his arms hadn't been his at that time. He just hadn't been able to hug her. His heart had so longed for it but his body just hadn't obeyed. He was so full of sorrow and sadness that he thought he couldn't hold back the tears any longer. Stifling a faint sob, he clamped down on a flutter of panic.

Indifference. If there was anything that would help him through whatever was happening to him it was not to think about it.

He didn't understand it. Reality, illusion, his dreams – it all blurred into one single nightmare. And he was trapped inside.

It was as if he was still there, crouching in the shadow, so full of fear what was going to happen to him, so full of longing for a world that didn't exist for him any more.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. He saw the same images, the same nightmares, no matter if awake or asleep. It didn't make any difference.

* * *

"In behalf of my crew, I'd like to thank you for everything you've done, Captain Sisko."

The captain of the former research vessel _T'Hekal_ formally shook hands with the human in front of the black desk in the Captain's office. Again, the Vulcan's features remained devoid of any emotion when he indicated a bow and directed his piercing blue eyes at the human.

"Don't thank me, Captain T'Lhan, thank Starfleet," Captain Sisko only said.

The Vulcan arched one brow, but nodded then without further comment.

Even if he would have felt uncomfortable about being this cool and reserved toward another person, Captain Sisko couldn't help his tone in this very moment. It was the way T'Lhan was behaving in front of him and his crewmen that somehow aroused his suspicion. It was some indefinite feeling deep down in his stomach, he wasn't able to pin down, but something told him that there was more behind the incident and the whole rescue mission on Atholes III than everyone tried to make him believe. After all those years serving in Starfleet he'd developed a special kind of feeling for such things and standing now face to face with the Vulcan Captain, he definitely knew that he didn't even know half of the story.

"As soon as the ship that will bring us back to Vulcan arrives at the station, my crew and I will no longer bother you, Captain. Thank you again. Hadn't it been for your courage we'd still be stuck on that planet." T'Lhan nodded one last time, then turned on his heels and left the office.

Even several minutes after the other captain had stepped onto the turbolift down in OPS and had been carried out of sight, Sisko glowered at the door to his office, lost in his own thoughts. The smug, self-assuming behavior of T'Lhan was one thing. What irritated him even more, though, was the fact that obviously no one thought it important to inform him – the captain of a whole space station – about what was really going on. Had doubt and fear already undermined Starfleet to an extend that made it impossible for them to trust their own people? Had the month-long battle against the Dominion, the constant fear of an infiltration by the Founders made them lose their faith in themselves? Had it reduced Starfleet into a bunch of cowards and spies to share only as much information within their own organization as was absolutely necessary? How far would things go? How long was this going to continue until they finally realized that it was not the Founders, the Vorta or the Jem'Hadar that slowly but surely carried them off but their own doubts, their own distrust and fears...?

Balling his hands into fists, he leaned absently back in his chair. Something had to happened. He just couldn't bare watching their position in the war getting worse and worse without being able to do something. No, sometimes you had to lose in order to win, and should he ever have the chance to change things, it was acting before it was too late. It was their only chance.


	4. Chapter 12

**- Chapter 12 -**

The room was bathed in utter darkness, the only meager light cast in by the tiny white stars streaking by ever so slowly outside the viewport. Never changing her rhythm, DS9 seemed to be the only steady point left in a world that had turned upside down in a moment's notice. A word that had seemed so controlled and promising, with so many wonders still to uncover. But it had all been built upon a foundation of lies. It was nothing more than a world of illusion, a house of cards, tumbling down and falling apart when the flaw in its basement was no longer possible to deny.

Slamming a fist down on the window strut, he cursed himself for having been so shortsighted. For having been so naive. For having been so immature as to give in to his vanity. He should have known better. He should have been prepared. What a fool had he been?

Bent over the window sill and staring out into the distance, Captain Robert Evans bitterly reflected upon a life that was on the brink of collapsing. He knew it. He knew it with a dead certainty born out of the despair of a man whose life hung by a single thread, and the helplessness of not being able to stop the course of events, of not being able to hinder fate from dashing yet again his laboriously regathered hopes and dreams, was almost too much for him. How long and hard had he worked to get into this position? How much of his life had he sacrificed for his career? How much, others wouldn't even begin to imagine? It was impossible that it all should have been for nothing. He refused to accept that everything should end here.

All the admiration, all the recognition he'd received from Starfleet and the people he'd worked with. All the affirmation he'd been craving for ever since his childhood.

He had still been a child back then. Listening to the adventure stories of his father, he had wanted nothing more than to experience those adventures himself. He'd always lived for this dream, had worked hard and restlessly to be admitted into Starfleet – not to mention all the things he had to sacrifice in the course. And not only at the academy. Never had he been satisfied with what he achieved. Nothing was ever good enough for him. He'd always known that he was destined for greatness, just as the rest of his family. He'd never wanted to end in a mediocre position, had never wanted to spend his life in a monotonous rhythm where every day blurred into the next, where every new dawn brought not only the promise of a safe and quiet routine but also the question as to what he was actually living for. And he could remember how proud his father had always been of his only son.

Never had he been satisfied with his accomplishments. There had always been something to improve. This was what he owed his career to, his success.

He'd graduated best of his year, had even received command of an own ship shortly afterwards and had achieved more in a few years than others would in a whole lifetime. He'd always known that there was something special waiting for him; and perhaps when he had finally met Miranda, he'd known for the first time that all the effort he had taken up to that point in his life had been worth it. Miranda had been a person of no less talent and possibilities, someone equal, a person with whom he was able to share not only his ambitions but also his dreams. Someone he had loved with all his heart.

The years they'd spent together had been blissful and quiet, the time being one of the happiest in his life. Back then, he had been so full of dreams about the future. About their future together.

Until that very special day.

No one had ever seen it coming. One decisive moment, and he had lost everything. Everything he had been working for so hard during his life, the future he'd always taken for granted. Feeling their happiness melt away under his hands, unable to do anything against it, had pushed him to the edge of madness. The only thing he had been able to do was watch his blissful world shatter into hundreds of thousand of pieces. And with it, he had finally lost what he had loved most in his life: Miranda. In the end, he'd been deprived of everything worth living for.

During all the following years, he'd constantly struggled to regain control over his life, had desperately tried to go on where he'd left off. But he knew that things would never be the same. Things wouldn't come undone. Time wasn't going to reverse itself. No matter how one would praise him for his achievements, no matter how many people would be looking up to him, nothing would ever be the same. He was cheated on the happiness that should have been his. And no day was passing without him thinking half wistfully and half ruefully back on those blissful days that seemed to him now like a mocking lie.

His face twisted into a painful grimace when he involuntarily thought about what could have been. Having to experience what his world, and life, could have been – under different circumstances, in another lifetime – was almost impossible for him to bear. It was a cruel, ironic twist of fate, showing him what could have been, tantalizing and taunting him for what he once had given away, what he would never again have the right to come back to. There was only one thing left for him to do now: defend himself and go on with the lie that had become his silent companion during all these years of uncertain twilight. Try to find a way out of it.

Swallowing hard against the sickness in his stomach, his grip on the window sill tightened.

He knew that there was only one step left in sealing his own fate, one single step to make it all into devastating reality. The box of Pandora. Some part of him knew that all these last couple of days he'd been trying to avoid the unavoidable. But he no longer could. He had his back up against the wall, there was nowhere else to go. Closing his eyes and refusing to accept the obvious was the most stupid thing he could do. He had to be sure. He had to be prepared...

His heart was pounding heavily, and the queasiness of his stomach was about to get the better of him, when he finally took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Summoning every bit of his remaining strength, he turned grimly back to the blackness of his room, ready to face his worst nightmare...

* * *

He was sitting cross-legged on the couch of his quarters, his gaze unfocused as his hands stroke absently over the small, rugged teddy bear in his lap. The plate with some scones and the cup of lukewarm tea were standing barely touched on the small glass table in front of to him. He'd tried to take Dr. Frejir's advice and start with something light but had abandoned the attempt very quickly when his roiling and protesting stomach had sent him stumbling to the bathroom in the end. Not that he was really hungry, anyway. He still felt light-headed and dizzy, as if his mind was somehow wrapped into layers of thick cotton that dampened every sound and image that came from the outside world into his mind. Coming back from the bathroom, he hadn't been able to shake the feeling that the ground to his feet was using every chance to slip tauntingly this way or that, having him concentrate hard not to stumble on the unsteady ground.

In the end, he'd settled on the couch in front of the viewport, leaning absently back and trying to ignore the emotional chaos inside him. It had been barely more than one day that he'd been released from the infirmary, Dr. Frejir suggesting that he return to his own quarters now that they could be sure that he was in no life-threatening condition any longer. At first, he'd been glad for the time alone, away from the constant and watchful eyes of the elder doctor and the eerie quiet of the infirmary with the humming of the diagnostic console as only consolation at night. But now, back to the solitude of his own quarters, he wasn't so sure any longer. More time alone meant more thinking – and thinking was about the last thing Julian wanted to do right now.

Hugging the teddy bear closer to his chest, he sighed, closing his tired eyes. When Dr. Frejir had gently told him that he was relieved of his duties for the time being, he hadn't really cared much. Even as the lousy patient he made as a doctor, he knew that in his present condition he was of no use to anybody, and alone the fatigue and heaviness of his own body had been enough to keep him from arguing with the elder doctor. He'd only nodded when Dr. Frejir had further announced that he was expected to meet with Counselor Tel Nori to help him through the emotional turmoil he was experiencing at present. His pride would have had him defend himself that he was feeling well and didn't need any help from a counselor, that things weren't as bad as they seemed and that it was nothing a little sleep wouldn't cure, hadn't it been for the deep emptiness, the dull, disembodied pain in his chest, clearly telling him that it was a lie. He couldn't say how glad he was that neither Dr. Frejir nor Captain Sisko had questioned him any further, having obviously reached a silent agreement to grant him a little more respite before they confronted him with things he obviously wasn't able to answer just yet in his present condition.

Not that he really understood what had happened before he'd woken to find himself in the infirmary on DS9. It was like the last days had been completely erased from his mind, as if everything that had happened between their arrival on the planet's surface and the moment Dr. Frejir had brought him back from that great oblivion of unconsciousness was cut from his memory, replaced by the horrible images and feelings of a nightmare that had once and for all dashed what had been left of his naivete. Captain Sisko had told him that it had been two days... two complete days and a few hours that didn't exist for him. And even the first few hours of wakefulness were nothing more than a hazy notion, the memories blurring into each other, swimming just out of his reach.

About to lie down, trying to stifle the constant whirl of images and feelings in his mind, the sudden chime of the doorbell drew his attention.

After some indecisive seconds, during which he mused upon what would happen, if he just ignored the call, he finally sat up again, placing the teddy bear next to him on the couch. "Come in," he said with no enthusiasm, not exactly keen on having yet another visitor to deal with.

Only a moment later, the door to his quarters parted with a faint hiss, disgorging the newcomer into his quarters. He wasn't even surprised to find Chief O'Brien step over the threshold to his quarters in a cautious way that incongruously reminded him of someone trying to enter a minefield.

"I... just wanted to check on you, Julian. Just wanted to see if everything is alright. Dax told me that I would find you here..." the chief began quickly as if to apologize for his sudden intrusion, just to swallow down the rest of the sentence when his gaze fell on the young man on the couch. Julian couldn't blame him. He knew that he must look ten times as miserable as he felt inside.

"You're not the only one. Sisko and Dax came about one hour ago. Kira shortly after that," he replied matter-of-factly.

O'Brien hesitated some seconds next to the door, before he finally shook his head, grimacing. "You know, I just thought that, perhaps you might want to talk about what's happened..." he awkwardly offered.

He had feared that the question would come. "Thank you, Miles. But I don't want to discuss it. It's something I have to deal with alone. It's a… private matter."

Not waiting for Julian's invitation – or having realized that the young man was in no mood to engage willingly into conversation - O'Brien came over, decisively taking a place in one of the vacant chairs on the opposite side of the table. "Look Julian, the last time you told me to leave you alone, I didn't argue with you. But in the end, it's only made things worse. Whatever is the problem, it stopped being a private matter when it had you almost killed on Atholes III... "

Julian avoided the chief's sorrowful, questioning gaze. It was not that he didn't _want_ to talk about it. He just _couldn't._ His own feelings were a stranger to him, his memory a puzzle with too many of its pieces missing. His whole world, the truth he had always believed in, it all had shattered in a moment's notice, leaving him standing forlorn and alone in the tattered remains of a world he no longer knew. Even if he wanted to, there was no way to bring this feeling of forlornness and despair into words...

"I'm sorry, Miles..." Julian mumbled under his breath, still not facing the chief.

O'Brien obviously wasn't ready to give up that easily. "Julian, the whole thing didn't start with Atholes III. If I'm not mistaken, something had been bothering you for quite some time before we even set foot on the planet. You tried to hide it from everyone, but it was obvious that something was wrong with you. You hardly slept. You canceled your lunches with Garak. You took refuge in your work. It wasn't so hard to notice that something was amiss. The incident with Chester... the dinner with Captain Sisko... Commander Dax said you half exploded on her when she woke you from your nightmare on board the _Defiant_."

Julian's head involuntarily went up at this. So O'Brien – his friends – knew about the nightmares... He wasn't sure if he should be angry at them for spying into his private life, or to be relieved that he no longer had to act as if everything were okay even though it was not. Still, he couldn't bring himself to tell O'Brien about the nightmares, too afraid of what horrible things there were yet to uncover.

O'Brien's brow furrowed in what seemed like honest concern. "We're worried about you, Julian. What happened on Atholes III almost cost you your life, not to mention the lives of the rest of the crew. And no one is able to tell why. No one knows what happened to you while you were separated from Commander Dax and the others. That is, no one except yourself."

"I've already told Captain Sisko and Dr. Frejir that I don't remember what happened," Julian defended himself more vehemently than necessary. "I can't tell you anything about it, because I don't remember it myself. The last thing I recall is trying to get to Dax and the others, that I was running through the streets of Northport – and then there's nothing. I can't tell you what happened simply because I don't know!"

"And what about the nightmares?" the Chief threw in.

When Julian kept stubbornly silent, O'Brien drew in a long breath, obviously realizing that he was fighting a battle he wouldn't win. "Look, I can't force you to tell me. I'm just trying to help. But perhaps Counselor Tel Nori can do a better job than me..." He intently watched the young man, trying to get through his thick layers of self-protection. "...but if you want to talk about it, you know where to find me." He laboriously rose from the chair, waiting for some further remark from the young man. When his words were met by silence, he hesitated another short moment, before he reluctantly started for the door.

It was the instant O'Brien turned his back on him, heading for the door, that made something in Julian act before he was even aware of it.

"Miles," he suddenly blurted out, making O'Brien stop dead in his track halfway to the door.

Unable to comprehend the sudden surge of emotions within him, the terrible feeling of fear that struck him at the sight of the chief walking away from him and leaving him to himself, Julian only knew that he didn't want O'Brien to go. It was a nearly desperate feeling, as though letting the chief step over that threshold, as though letting the door glide shut behind his back, would seal his fate and surrender him forever to whatever was lurking for him in the darkness, only waiting for the right moment to come and drag him back into the abyss. It was a feeling so strong and overwhelming that he at first wasn't sure where it had come from so suddenly.

It didn't even take another word for O'Brien to turn on his heels.

Julian's gaze dropped to the floor when he awkwardly tried to find the right words, his pride and self respect all at once overruled by some unknown inner force that made him finally voice aloud what he had kept in for much too long.

"I..." he started stammering, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper, "...don't remember when it all began. At first I thought that it was just a coincidence. That I was just stressed, or overtired. I thought that maybe the war with the Dominion was causing them. But then, they came more often. They became more intense. And more frightening."

"The nightmares?"

Julian lifted his gaze, nodding.

"Was that why you refused to sleep?" the chief asked carefully when he settled again into the chair on the opposite side of the glass table.

Again, Julian managed a nod. "I couldn't think of anything else, Miles. I know how stupid it sounds, but I just wanted them to stop. I knew that whatever was causing them or whatever those dreams were about, it was better to never find out. I was able to run from them when I was awake, but there was no way for me to escape them when I was asleep," he whispered. "And they didn't stop. With every night they became clearer, with more details. And more unsettling... And when I was down on Atholes III..." his voice broke when he felt a jolt of horror surge through him at the memories.

"It was as if I had stepped right out of reality and into the nightmare I had been so desperately trying to escape from. I can't remember anything but how suddenly my world turned upside down. Never in my life have I been so afraid, Miles," he finally forced himself to go on. "I couldn't think of anything else. It was like my whole world was suddenly coming crashing down on me. I was trapped in a nightmare, and I couldn't wake up."

"What happened? What were those dreams about, Julian?" O'Brien tried, slightly unsure, as if he were struggling to make the connection between the nightmares on one side and their mission on Atholes III on the other.

For a long time, Julian just sat there, staring at the untouched food on the table before he finally took a deep breath.

"Me. The dreams... were about me."

O'Brien shot him a puzzled look. "In what way?"

Trying himself to make sense of the fragments of his memory, Julian shook his head. "It was so real, Miles. I was back to being a child. I was in that room and I can only remember how afraid I was of them, how much I was scared of what they were going to do to me."

"Afraid of whom?"

His heart was pounding so heavily in his chest, that he felt short of breath. A wave of nausea came washing over him when he saw the images replay before his mind's eye. Even though he refused to admit it, the words came tumbling out of his mouth before he was able to hold them back.

"My parents."

He was barely able to believe it himself. He still refused to believe it, but there was no longer a way of denying it. Not after what had happened. Somehow he'd known it all the time. He'd kept trying to tell himself that it couldn't be, that all this couldn't be his own memory for he was sure that nothing of it had ever happened. But there was no longer a way to run from the obvious. The persons in his dreams were his parents. It were his own parents he was so utterly afraid of.

"What... did they do to you?" The chief tried further, unsure if Julian would be ready to answer the question.

Struggling for the strength to face the nightmare yet again, Julian felt as if a dark shadow was wrapping itself around him, dragging him back into the murky twilight of his memories. Within an instant, he was back there. "It was my mother's birthday. I remember drawing a picture for her, with the new crayons my father had gotten me a short time earlier. I put so much effort into drawing the picture for her, I remember this much. But when I gave it to her on her birthday, she just exploded, yelling at me and locking me into my room," he started hesitantly, trying to get the pieces together in his mind as he spoke. "I didn't understand why she would be so mad at me. We had some visitors. I remember how boring it was. I just wanted to get away from them so I went playing in my room. But then I heard her cry coming from the kitchen. When I ran over to see what had happened, my mother was standing in the kitchen, holding our cat by the scruff of his neck. She was shacking him and I just knew that she was hurting him, so I ran over to her, batting her legs to leave him alone."

O'Brien grimaced in dismay. "So that explains the thing with Chester in my quarters."

Julian barely heard him, too absorbed in his own memory. "She grabbed me by my arm, shaking me and shouting at me before she dragged me back into my room and turned the key. I was so afraid. I couldn't understand why she was so mad at me. And in the evening, when my father came with her into my room, I only knew they were going to hurt me. I couldn't think of anything else. Before my father had the opportunity to hit me, I ran away..." The word's tumbled out of Julian's mouth before he was even aware of them. It happened so fast. Like he was nothing more than a simple spectator, like it hadn't been really him all this had happened to.

"I was too scared. I wasn't fast enough and couldn't get away from them and when my father caught up with me..." Julian involuntarily broke off when he desperately tried to hold back the tears that had begun to form in the corner of his eyes. His chest was aching, his throat so tight that it hurt. "I can't believe it, Miles. I can't believe that my own parents did this to me. But it was real. The only thing I know for sure is that it did happen. It's the truth."

An awkward, leaden silence passed between them, before O'Brien finally said: "Has there been any other time that you father... you know..."

Julian grimaced. "... hit me?" He shook his head, thinking back on all those years after he had learned about his genetic enhancements. "No," he stated, this time firmly. "He's never touched me. We had our differences, and there was a lot of arguing, especially about my career in Starfleet, but..." Julian shook his head. "... he's never lain a hand on me in this way."

He ran his sweaty hands over his face. "I don't understand it. I don't understand how I could simply forget that it ever happened. How could I possibly forget that something like this happened?" Julian whispered in bewilderment.

O'Brien leaned forward, a dark frown on his face. "Everything started with those dreams. Perhaps there _is_ a logical explanation to it, after all," he tried. "You said yourself that you can't believe it, that until three days ago you had no idea that it ever happened. If you ask me, the only way to find out the truth, is confronting your parents with it. See what their version of the story is. See how they'll react."

Julian's eyes widened at the suggestion. "My parents?" His voice came harsher as he had intended.

"Listen, if you ask me, this whole affair sounds rather strange to me. Is there anything else you remember? Like what happened before, or after the incident?"

Julian shook his head. "No... there's... nothing. I don't even have any idea when all this could have happened..."

O'Brien nodded as if in affirmation. "So if what you remember really did happen in your childhood, it leaves only two other people who would be able to answer the question."

Julian felt a flutter of panic at O'Brien's words. "It were my parents who did this to me! How can I possibly talk to them about it?"

O'Brien met Julian's gaze squarely. "Because you said yourself that you weren't able to remember any of these events before. And you just told me that you don't even know when it could have happened. There has to be a reason for it. Your parents might be the only ones to tell what exactly happened back then, and if everything happened as you remember it now, anyway."

Staring disbelievingly at the chief, as if he had just suggested he grab a knife and stab himself, Julian shook his head. "No," he stammered, the mere thought of coming face to face with his parents sending a piercing chill through his body. "No, that's about the last thing I want to do now."

"Julian, it might be the only way to understand what happened in your childhood. Talk with your parents," O'Brien didn't give up. "There's nothing to lose anymore, is there?"

A moment passed, before Julian slowly lifted his gaze. "The truth," he eventually brought forth. "Everything I believed to be the truth..."

When O'Brien kept silent, Julian turned absently toward the viewport. "It's like back then. I'd always known that I was different from the others, but I can still remember the day, when I had to learn about my genetic enhancements. Can you imagine what a shock it was for me? I was fifteen. I just wanted to be like the rest of my friends, but after what my parents had done to me it was just impossible. It had been my parents who made me the person I was, how could I be proud of it? It weren't my own achievements. All the marks I got in school, all the sports events I excelled at, it was nothing more than a lie. I hated my parents for what they'd done to me. I've never forgiven them for the anxiety and feeling of guilt I had to go through, all the disappointment and fear that one day someone might find out. That sooner or later someone would notice that I was nothing more than a coward and liar. But the worst part of it all was, that I knew that I would never have been able to do all those things on my own. I had been a child, small and retarded – and I would never again be able to prove them wrong."

About to say something in response, Julian cut him off. "It was the worst time in my life, Miles. I had to learn a truth about myself that had better remained undiscovered. I was so disappointed and angry that I decided to take my life into my own hands. A life as Julian Bashir."

He took a deep breath. "I thought I knew everything about me. But there's another truth. I saw how much the last changed my life, I don't want to know what this one will do to me."

"Julian, you can't ignore what happened," O'Brien said. "Running away won't solve anything."

Julian shook his head, all at once feeling so utterly drained. "No, it's something I have to deal with myself. There's no one who could help me. Not with this. Maybe I'll talk to my parents... in the end. But right now, what I need most is more time. Just a little longer to organize my own thoughts and feelings, just long enough for me to understand what happened.."

"Captain Sisko has sent for your parents, Julian. They're on the station. You won't be able to avoid them forever. Sooner or later you'll have to talk to them."

"I know, Miles. The only thing I need now is rest. Just for a short moment. Please..." he said, not facing the chief "...just give me some days. That's all I need."

O'Brien studied him with a worried frown, not sure if leaving the young man to himself in his present condition would be such a wise decision. At the same time it was clear, though, that they had finally reached the limit of what Julian would be able to tell him. It was more than he could have hoped for. Pressing his lips into a tight line, he shook his head. "Okay," he finally gave in. "But promise me, you'll think about it."

Julian just nodded, waiting for the chief to get up to his feet. Another awkward moment passed between them, before the chief tried again: "So, see you some time later?"

Again, Julian only nodded.

It was not until O'Brien had left his quarters and the door had hissed back into place that Julian let his head drop defiantly back against the couch, burying his face in his trembling hands. Trying desperately to push the memories out of his mind. But in vain.

They were there. All the time.

No matter how hard he tried to banish them out of his thoughts, they kept coming back, washing over him in a relentless, breathtaking force.

It had been so long. How could he have so easily forgotten about it? How could he have forgotten such an event? What would his parents say? It didn't fit. It just didn't fit.

He'd already lost it. He'd lost his truth. His whole word, the truth he had grown up to believe in, it was dissolving around him and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

What could he now believe in? What was reality? What was the truth?

* * *

"We have to tell Captain Sisko the truth, Richard." Staring blankly at the barely touched plate in front of her, Amsha finally put the fork to the side and took the napkin from her lap, placing it decidedly next to her on the table. She wasn't really hungry and knowing that every minute they were putting the problem off, pretending that nothing had really happened, was only making things worse, didn't really help her appetite.

It wasn't but after some more moments of stifling silence that her husband finally lifted his gaze, a flicker of resignation crossing his tired face. "That's impossible, Amsha. And you know it," he intently said, his voice calm and controlled. "We shouldn't even have this argument right now."

"How can you say that? It's _Jules_, we're talking about, Richard. It's our son we're talking about. Don't you care what's going to happen to him? If he's going to be alright?" Her voice trembled when she stared defiantly back at him. She immediately regretted her harsh tone.

"Of course I do," Richard gave patiently back, as if he were arguing with a stubborn child. "But what do you suggest we do? We can't tell him. That's impossible. It's simply out of the question."

"You weren't there. You haven't seen him." Thinking back on her visit to the infirmary, she felt a painful twinge in her heart. "He's remembering, Richard! I tell you, he's remembering."

Richard shook his head, dismissing her words with a quick wave of his hand. "I don't think so. If he really were remembering anything we wouldn't have this conversation now."

"He's remembering that evening. I'm sure. You should have seen him," she whispered. "He was so hurt and lost. What if he's really remembering? We can't leave him like this. We have to do something!"

"And what? Tell Captain Sisko the truth? That's out of the question. Just stop worrying, Amsha. You heard what that doctor said. He'll be better soon. The worst thing we could do now is precipitate things," Richard looked right into her eyes.

"Captain Sisko is suspecting us to be responsible for Jules' present condition." She felt hot tears well in the corner of her eyes. "Don't tell me you don't care. Even if Jules will be better, I don't think Captain Sisko will abandon this issue so easily."

Grabbing for the napkin, Richard's carefully upheld composure finally slipped, his own anger rising slowly to the surface. Not facing his wife, his grip around the napkin tightened as he directed his gaze absently into the room. "It shouldn't have happened," he finally shook his head. "I don't know how it is even possible. He shouldn't be able to remember any of this. After all the effort..." he bitterly said. "It was part of the agreement."

"I don't know how it is possible – and it doesn't really matter. The only thing we have to think about now is how we can help Jules," Amsha replied tensely.

"It does matter, Amsha. Because it changes everything," Richard's words came softly, barely more than a whisper. A flicker of painful resoluteness crossed his features when he stared out into the vastness of space as if to find the answer to his question there. "But why now? Why after all these years? Why did he so suddenly remember?"

"You heard what Captain Sisko said. They were on the planet," Amsha offered. "He was back to the same city. He.." her voice broke when she suppressed a shudder at the memory. "...might have even been back to the same place."

Richard shot her a dismayed glare. "No one could have foreseen that he'd ever return to that place." His face grew dark. "Starfleet shouldn't have allowed him to go on that mission. They should have avoided it. If there's anyone to blame, it's Starfleet."

"All the more reason to tell Captain Sisko the truth. He's trying to help Jules..."

Richard ran a cool hand over his face, massaging the back of his nose. "It's not that simple... the agreement is one thing. But have you thought about what it would mean for Jules? This is not something we can decide lightly. After all we've been through, after all the hard time with his genetic enhancements... after all these years..." Drawing in one deep, long breath, his face finally took on a pained expression. "Are you really ready to take this step? Are you really prepared for what it would do to Jules and us?"

When Amsha kept silent, he absently leaned back, the dark frown on his face turning into a dark scowl.

"So what shall we do...?" she finally asked, her features twisted into a painful grimace while she studied her husband's face.

Richard just shook his head, not facing her. "I wish I knew, Amsha..." he said at length. "I wish I knew..."

* * *

Staring numbly at the computer display in front of him, he felt like he had been dealt a painful and paralyzing blow. What first had been only a dark and frightening notion, had once and for all turned into devastating reality._ Amsha and Richard Bashir_. He should have known. All this time it had been right in front of his eyes, his mind refusing to draw the only logical conclusion. It had been the moment when he'd first set foot on the station and Captain Sisko had introduced his senior staff to him one after the other.

_Julian Bashir._

He'd heard the name – but his mind had simply shut down against any further consideration. God, it had been so simple. Deep within his heart he'd always known that there could be a connection between the three of them, at latest when he'd gotten to hear of Julian's genetically enhanced background. And finally, a look into his Starfleet file was all it took to make him realize the unsettling truth.

Julian _was _Jules.

He'd looked it up in the computer data base. Julian's real name was Jules Bashir, born in 2342, genetically enhanced almost seven years later. Graduated second in his class at Starfleet Medical and for six years chief medical officer of Deep Space Nine. It all fit.

But why not? Had he ever bothered to check? Had he ever cared what had happened to little Jules? No, after that day he'd never looked back. He'd forced himself to got on, to let go of the past and start his life all over again. No, he'd never given it a second thought what might have become of the boy for it belonged to a life that had once and for all come to an end, the memories of which he had stored – carefully sealed – in the remotest corner of his mind, to never bring them to the surface again.

Staring unblinking at the yellow letters on the black display, his fingers hovered indecisively inches above console.

_Bashir._

He should have known. They'd always been fond of the boy. He'd never really understood them. _Genetically enhanced, indeed_, he thought with some kind of queer satisfaction. So they hadn't really been up to the task either. What were those few months compared to the six long years before? He'd spent six years with the boy, they'd given up after only a few weeks...

Leaning back and staring blankly at the ceiling of his quarters, some part of him couldn't help wonder what Miranda would say if she found out that her only child had grown into a young, passionate Starfleet doctor. Poor, little Jules, all grown up and living a life none of them could have ever imagined. A humorless chuckle made it past his lips at the cruel irony of fate. The miserable past he had once tried to forget, catching up with him so all of a sudden, so utterly unexpected, when all he had done was let his guard down in the wrong moment.

Thinking back on their little racquetball games, on the fondness he had developed toward the young man during the few days of their short acquaintance, he felt a painful twinge in his heart. Almost unconsciously he found himself trying to remember the young boy's face, trying to compare it to the grown up Julian he'd met on the station, though all he was able to drum up from the depths of his memory was the fearful, tear-smeared face of little Jules on that evening. No, there was so little of Jules left in Julian...

Recalling the young doctor's buoyant smile, remembering his easy manner and those hazel eyes, so full of zest for life, he felt one thing above all. He was reluctant to admit it, even scared what would happened if he allowed the feeling to grow beyond the small flicker it was now. But there was no denying it any longer. Even after all this time, after all these years, he still refused to become a victim to his own conscience.

If just things had turned out differently.

He'd always imagined himself as caring and loving father of a family when they'd made the decision to settle down on Atholes III. Being no longer able to travel through space, having to take some time off after the Telarian Wars and following Starfleet's orders to Atholes III had been painful as first. There had still been so much more to do. Being in command of a starship, exploring the infinite wonders of space had always been his dream. His career had meant everything to him. Only a few more years and he would have been admiral. His promotion had been as good as sealed after his accomplishments in the Telarian Wars. Trading the thrill of his adventures in space against a peaceful life on Atholes III had been no easy decision, but for the love of Miranda he had been willing to give it a try. If Miranda insisted on settling down and starting a family, he would become the best family father there ever had been.

Who could have known that the decision would ultimately destroy his life? He'd been so proud and happy when Jules was born. They both had been. He'd thought that finally, after all these years, he'd found the happiness he'd always been seeking throughout his entire life.

But Jules wasn't like other children. At latest when he grew older, they had to realize that their son would never measure up to their expectations. He was a small child, too weak for his age, too slow in learning things that others of his age had mastered years ago. Not a single day was passing without showing them how much their life was going into the wrong direction, how much is was diverging from the blissful future they had always imagined. Seeing Jules so helpless, so utterly unlike them, was hardly bearable.

Taking a long, deep breath, he shook his head.

Was it really so hard to understand that sooner or later, their hopes and dreams for the future had burned down to a profound bitterness about the unfairness of life, making them fear every new dawn that would make the situation even worse? Was it so hard to understand that at some point, the good intentions had shriveled into disappointment and anger against life itself?

No one who hadn't been in the same situation as himself would ever fully comprehend it. And no one who hadn't lived through the same disillusion and pain should ever presume to judge his actions.

Balling his hands into fists, he kept staring expressionlessly at the ceiling.

It was happening again. What had once destroyed his dreams, what had once condemned him to the miserable shadow of his former life he was leading now, was about to happen again. But he wasn't willing to let his life be taken away so easily. Not this time. He'd once paid the price, he wasn't willing to pay it twice.

Deactivating the monitor of the small device, he sat motionless for a long time, wrapped into the darkness of his quarters.

He wouldn't allow fate to take away what was left of his miserable life. Not this time.


	5. Chapter 13

**- Chapter 13 -**

With a dull, splashing thud, the wobbly yellow mass plummeted unceremoniously back down, landing in a wet heap on the black plate below.

He tried it again. Scraping the piece of the I'danian spice pudding once again onto the spoon, he concentrated hard. This time he'd make it. It couldn't be that hard.

Even before he'd brought the spoon halfway up from the plate, the pudding slipped tauntingly to the side, just to glide another second later over the brim of its curved, smooth surface. With another wet thud, it landed an inch away from the edge of the plate, on the blue table cloth.

Well, then he'd just try again...

The third time seemed much more promising – until his shaky hand messed it up, making the pudding slide down the length of the handle, this time right onto his hand.

Why was it so difficult? What was so difficult about eating a spoonful of pudding?

Bringing his face stubbornly closer to the table, he made another attempt, this time staring at the gray metal in his hands with an intensity that made little white stars appear in the corner of his field of vision. He didn't take his eyes off the sweet mass when he slowly lifted the spoon, trying to hold it as steady as he could.

Finally, he managed to feel the soft, cool texture of the pudding on his lips – just the split of a second before it fell again; this time splashing half a meter down on his black trousers.

With an angry, irritated snort, Julian Bashir knocked the spoon once and for all on the table, grabbing for the napkin to try and wipe the mess from his uniform. He couldn't believe it. How could he possibly tell anyone that he was no longer able to eat? It was frustrating - and absurd at best. At least he was in his quarters. Alone. Away from any prying eyes that could have born witness to his own humiliation. The dinner with Miles this evening would have to wait...

Staring with a mixture of bewilderment and honest surprise at the plate of barely touched I'danian spice pudding in front of him, he wasn't sure what to make of the situation. Something had to be wrong with him, he couldn't think of any another explanation. Though he doubted that even the scrutinizing technology of a tricorder would be able to give him any satisfying answer as to what exactly was amiss with him. Perhaps it was just the stress of the last couple of days. Perhaps this feeling of helplessness would go away if he finally granted his body the rest it needed. If just his head would stop hurting. It felt as if someone had hit him over the back of his head, the dull pain slowly but surely creeping into every remotest corner of his mind, making it hard for him to get his thoughts together. Eventually he shoved the plate aside, letting himself slump back in his chair with a soft moan.

"_Don't make such a fuss, Jules!"_

He closed his eyes, taking a long, deep breath, trying to stifle the flutter of panic in his chest. He'd done it so often. Every day. So many times. Why was it so hard now? What was wrong with him?

"_You're old enough to do it alone."_

Still staring with a pained expression at the pudding in front of him, he didn't dare lift his gaze. After another moment of silent brooding, he took the plate to put the rest of his dessert back into the replicator, activating the recycling switch and watching the plate shimmer out of existence.

"Hot chocolate," he said an instant later.

"_Give it up. He'll never learn it. You know how slow he is on the uptake. You can as well save your breath."_

"_He still is my son. And I will teach him at least this much manners, even if it takes forever."_

When the I'danian spice pudding had vanished in a rain of sparkling stars, just to be replaced by a steaming cup of hot chocolate, he gingerly reached out for the cup, wrapping his shaky hands around it.

"_You'd better teach him all the things he should have learned months ago. I've spoken to the school principal. You should have seen his tests. It's nearly impossible to mark his exams."_

He tried to ignore them, as he had always done, trying to make himself as small as possible so as to not to draw their attention. He'd never really understood their words. Until now. But understanding the meaning of their words hurt even more...

"_Why me? I really have got better things to do. The Lennarean have violate the treaty again, the hell has broken loose. The embassy is in an uproar, we've got our hands full. I'll have to get back to the office later, see how things are going. If this continues, we'll soon have a full-scale war to face. Is that what you want?"_

Julian tried not to listen. Carefully, he balanced the cup in both hands, concentrating hard not to spill its hot content.

"_That's easy for you to say! Jules is not only my son. It's your duty as his mother to take care of the boy."_

"_My duty? And what exactly are you doing? Where have you been when his school called? I don't see you running to and fro trying to reconcile your job with your family life. I've spent the whole morning trying to make him understand the difference between a Human and a Vulcan – and he still doesn't know."_

Fine streaks of steam were sneaking up from the cup, carrying with them the sweet scent of hot chocolate. If just his hands weren't so unsteady. If he didn't pull himself together, he'd spill half of it before he reached the table.

"_Jules! Stop playing with the cat and go do your homework! We don't have time for such nonsense. I warn you, you won't leave your room until you've finished it, have I made myself clear?"_

Startled, he turned. Too quickly. Hot chocolate spilled over the brim of the cup.

"_There! Watch out, will you!"_

He almost tripped over his own feet when he let his gaze drop ashamed to the dark, wet stain on the carpet. "I'm sorry," he stammered, his eyes wide with dismay.

"_You're sorry? Oh, I'm sure you are. You always are."_

But he really was sorry. How could he make them believe him?

Stumbling backwards with his gaze fixed on the stained carpet, his mind raced how to repair the damage. Too late did he feel the edge of the chair in the hollow of his knee, the unexpected encounter knocking him suddenly out of balance. It all happened so fast, he barely was aware of what was happening. Driven by his own momentum he toppled backwards over the hard obstacle, emitting a surprised yelp as gravity dragged the upper part of his body down over the chair. The sudden sensation of falling sent a jolt of panic through him, the adrenaline following in its wake making him instinctively try to break his fall with his free hand. He gasped in shock when his fingers brushed the floor just to give way beneath the weight of his plummeting body. Julian heard the sharp, nauseating snap of bones before his shoulder forcefully hit the ground. The air was knocked out of his lungs, the cup of hot chocolate sent flying in a wide arc over the floor, spilling half of its content over Julian's left shoulder before it landed rolling some meters behind him with a hollow metal thud.

Momentarily dazed and in a state of shock, he just lay there, his legs still dangling from the edge of the chair and his dizzy mind unable to find any clear thought. His heart was racing in his chest when he struggled laboriously for breath. It was not until the black veil of dizziness in his mind slowly started to retreat that he was able to comprehend what had just happened. Gingerly, he brought his legs down to the floor, trying to roll himself over onto his right side, though the pain flaring up his arm into his chest was enough to make him stop dead in his movement. With a painful groan, he let his head drop back to the floor, squeezing his eyes shut against the hot wave of nausea.

He didn't dare imagine how his arm – buried under the weight of his body – might look like but alone the unnatural position in which his arm was pinned to the ground beneath him was enough to make a wave of dizziness roll over him. After another moment of disorientation, he finally managed to drum up enough strength and courage to roll over on his side. A moment later he unsteadily climbed to his feet, grabbing the table to support himself.

His right arm was a terrible sight. It hung useless at his side, the part around the elbow already beginning to swell. Ignoring the sharp, thudding pain, he knew that he had to get his arm treated as quickly as possible if he wanted to prevent any further damage.

Without giving it another thought, he left his quarters. Cradling his broken arm with his good hand, he hurried toward the infirmary.

* * *

"I'm glad you're here, Benjamin," Dax said in a strangely tense voice, already awaiting him when he briskly entered the infirmary. Gesturing toward the back part of the room, she nodded to him to follow her.

"What's the matter?"

The young Trill moved toward one of the biobeds, a dark frown crossing her slender features. "It's Julian."

Sisko arched one brow. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure. He came in a few minutes ago but I thought you might want to see it yourself," she offered vaguely when she led him to the only occupied biobed in the room.

When he rounded the diagnostic console, he saw him.

Julian was sitting on one of the biobeds, absently watching nurse Bendi treat his right arm. His face was unnaturally pale, his shimmering eyes unfocused with a faraway look that left no doubt that he was there again. It was the same distant look like when they had found him on Atholes III, the same empty gaze that had met his when Dr. Frejir had brought him back from unconsciousness. Seeing the once so self-confident young doctor sitting now so forlorn and battered on the biobed sent a cold chill through him. After all what Dr. Frejir had said, he'd thought that Julian was finally on the mend. Though what he saw now, unmistakeably told him that he had been wrong. He wasn't on the mend, he was slipping away from them. He could see it clearly now. Whatever was happening to the young man, it was dragging him back into the illusionary world that existed for no one else but Bashir. And considering his rapidly worsening condition, he knew with a startling certainty that there wasn't much time left.

"What happened, Julian?" he gently tried when he arrived next to him.

The young man visibly startled and cocked up his head, though the sudden reaction didn't quite succeed in breaking the stupor he seemed to be in. "I stumbled and... broke my arm," he awkwardly tried to explain. Only now Sisko noticed the dark, brown stains on the blue rim of Julian's uniform.

"Hot chocolate," the young man offered with a crooked, apologetic smile that only managed to increase Sisko's worry. "I guess I should have watched my step."

When nurse Bendi applied another hypospray to the young doctor's shoulder, asking him to try to slowly circle his arm for her, Sisko drew Dax aside. Taking care to lower his voice to a level that would make it impossible for Julian to hear his words – at the same time careful not to lower it far enough to sound conspiratorial – he shook his head. "Did he tell you how it happened?"

"He said he stumbled over one of the chairs in his quarters...," she offered with an arched brow.

Sisko shook his head. "I don't like it, Old Man. Something is wrong with him. I thought that he was finally on the mend but..." Shooting a quick look back at Bashir who flexed and unbend his arm in honest wonder, as if nurse Bendi hat just worked a miracle to heal his broken arm by merely running a blinking piece of metal over it, he felt an unpleasant twinge of worry at the child-like sight of his former chief medical officer.

"I don't know what is going on with him but I can't risk leaving him alone any longer. No matter what Dr. Frejir has said, it obviously wasn't such a good idea to leave him to himself in the first place..."

Dax nodded, grimacing. "You don't wander around your quarters, trip over chairs and break your arm. Not Julian of all people."

"Exactly," Sisko whispered back. "As long as we don't know what is going on with him, I want to have a watchful eye on him. See if you can find out anything that might tell us what's going on. I'll have another talk with Dr. Frejir. The situation is obviously worse than we thought..."

The faint hiss of the infirmary's parting double doors made them suddenly aware of another newcomer to the infirmary. Turning toward the entrance, Sisko noticed with relief that it was Evans. Just the man he had wanted to see...

"What's the matter?" Evans asked with a wry smile, obviously surprised at the unexpected bustling activity in the infirmary. He was clad in his wide sports trousers, his sports bag slung over one shoulder. Thick beads of sweat were still pearling on his forehead, as if he had just finished his sports exercises. The gray sports bag dangling from his side left no doubt as to what those sports exercises had been. "Did I miss something?" he joked with one of his easy smiles when he came nearer.

"It's nothing serious," Dax hurried to inform the older Captain. "Julian just had a little accident, that's why we're here," she smiled as if in explanation.

Evans seemed to get stiff at her words. Slightly taken aback, his gaze strayed to the back part of the infirmary, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly when he registered the other two persons behind Sisko and the young Trill. "I see," he reluctantly said in a suddenly rather emotionless voice, before the smile returned to his lips. When he came closer, Sisko couldn't shake the feeling that he all at once seemed so much taller, radiating so much more authority. Or was it only his imagination?

"A match of racquetball?" Sisko offered, indicating the gray sports bag.

Evans nodded with another thin-lipped smile, dropping his sports bag to the ground next to the bulkhead. For a short moment, his eyes flickered over to where nurse Bendi was treating Bashir, a dark shadow crossing his sweaty features, before he hurried to bring his attention back to Sisko and Dax. "I needed a bit more training. I've noticed that I'm no longer able to do some moves I certainly was a few years ago. But I guess I've trapped a nerve...It's hurting like hell." He said rather casually, massaging his right shoulder blade.

"I'll be with you in a moment," the nurse said quickly, at the same time smiling at Bashir and rolling down his uniform sleeve. "There! As good as new," she offered encouragingly, gathering the tricorder up from next to the young man and patting him slightly on the shoulder. Julian returned the smile genuinely.

When nurse Bendi moved to run a short diagnostic on the elder captain, Sisko couldn't help notice the cool and preoccupied look that had suddenly clouded Evans' features. He found it odd, but couldn't quite pin down the feeling. Shaking his head, he told himself that he was only imagining things. In any case, it was good to have Evans here. Perhaps he could have a watchful eye on the young man. He remembered Evans and Julian getting along quite well. Perhaps Evans would be able to find out more about Julian's strange condition.

"Speaking of racquetball, how was your last match against Dr. Bashir?" Sisko offered, gesturing toward the young man behind them.

Evans seemed to hesitate, but nodded then. "Well, you're doctor's quite a talent..." he said with a short nod toward the young man, who was still sitting rather obediently on the biobed as if he wasn't quite sure what to do.

"What about another match? I'm sure Julian would appreciate the chance to work on his skill with an opponent like you."

While Julian seemed rather surprised about the captain's suggestion, Evans didn't so much as blink. His countenance was as expressionless as a mask of wax when he said at length: "It... would be a pleasure. However, I think I had enough racquetball for one day. Perhaps we can make it another day? There's still plenty of work waiting for me in my quarters which I'd rather finish sooner than later."

When nurse Bendi injected another hypospray into his shoulder, Evans slowly lifted his arm, rotating it in both directions as to see if everything was back to normal. "That feel's a lot better," he smiled at the nurse. Then he turned to the others. "I've still got a lot of things to do. I guess I'd better be going. If you'll excuse me," he nodded, flashing another quick smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Gathering up his sports bag, he headed for the exit, giving Sisko the odd feeling that he was all but fleeing from the infirmary.

Before he reached the door to the promenade, he turned one last time. "Ah, and get well soon, Julian!" The words sounded hollow and stiff, as if it took him quite an effort to bring them over his lips. With this, he briskly stepped onto the crowded promenade.

Dax shot Sisko a surprised look but didn't comment. Turning to Julian, she lay a warm, reassuring hand on his shoulder. Julian lifted his gaze, looking awkwardly at them in turn. "I... guess I'd better go back to my quarters."

Dax lent him a helping hand to hop down from the biobed. "If you don't mind, I'll come with you," she offered with a raised eyebrow.

Julian looked at her in surprise, as if he could very well remember the last time she had offered her help – and the end of it.

"At least until we reach your quarters," she added with a mischievous grin.

He thought about it for a moment. "Okay," he finally agreed. At least she'd keep the voices in his head quiet for the time she was with him...

* * *

"Mr. Bashir and Mrs. Bashir, please, if you want to help your son, tell me what happened in Julian's past. What is he so afraid of?"

Sisko stood, hands on his hips, in the middle of their quarters. He tried to keep his voice low and controlled, but wasn't quite able to keep the slowly rising anger from seeping into his words. He could see absolutely no reason why the only two persons who might be able to shed some light on what was happening to his first medical officer were stubbornly refusing to help, pretending to know of nothing even though it was impossible to deny the truth any longer. If they just talked to him, perhaps then he'd be able to find a way to stop whatever was happening with the young man.

"Listen, this here is no longer a question of moral principles. I'm not here to hold you responsible for whatever happened in the past. Even if I don't approve of it, we cannot change what happened. But we can try to prevent further harm from being done. If we want to help your son, we need answers. And we need them fast."

"We've already told you as much as we can. We've never hit our son, nor have we done anything that would have caused him harm. I can't force you to believe us, Captain Sisko, but it's the truth. And it's all I can tell you," Richard said calmly, propping himself on his knees. He was sitting next to his wife on the couch, watching the captain with an expression devoid of any emotion.

Sisko ran a hand over his head in irritation, massaging the back of his nose. They weren't getting anywhere, and time was running out.

"Your son," Sisko stated slowly but intently, studying their faces as he went on, "is obviously suffering from the after-effects of a severe psychological trauma. After all we know, Julian couldn't have been very old when the incident occurred. We don't know what happened back then – and we don't know what triggered the memory after so long time. But that's not all. Something is happening with him, some slow, inexorable change, nobody is able to explain. You saw him after Atholes III. Something is utterly wrong with him. With every hour, he's retreating more and more into his own world. He's slipping away from us. And I don't know how to stop it."

Not taking his eyes off Amsha and Richard, he drew in a deep breath, trying once more to make them understand the urgency of the situation. "Please, as his parents, help Julian. It's your son's life we're talking about!"

Amsha averted her eyes, her gaze dropping to the floor. "How is he?" Her voice came hoarse, as if it took her a great effort to find it at all.

"He had a little accident but he's okay already. Commander Dax is with him."

"Captain, please understand our situation," Richard finally said, drawing himself up. "We came to the station, not even knowing the reason for your sudden call. Or why we were required to come to the station in person. When we came here, you suddenly confronted us with your suspicion of having abused our own son in his childhood, telling us that we're responsible for whatever happened to Jules. Please believe me, there's nothing we would like more than to help Jules. He's our son. But we cannot help you because nothing of it ever happened. This," he raised his voice, emphasizing every of his words, "is all a terrible misunderstanding."

"Very well," Sisko raised his hands, trying to prevent the situation from escalating. "I see your point." Even though his meeting with the Bashirs had turned out more frustrating than expected, he finally realized that he wouldn't be able to get the answers he was seeking here. Exhaling a long breath, he nodded. "But if you remember something, even the smallest detail that could be of help, _anything_, you know where to find me."

Richard nodded, walking Sisko to the door. "We'll let you know." He activated the door switch, watching Sisko step out of their quarters and into the dim-lit corridor behind. It was not until the door glided back into place that Richard leaned his head back, closing his eyes for a short moment and taking a long, deep breath.

"I'm not sure if I can do this, Richard," he heard the leaden voice of his wife from behind him. "No matter if we've given our word or not, this is _wrong._"

He shook his head, though he knew that she was right.

Slowly, he turned, finally drumming up enough courage to make a decision. "I know," he said in a defeated voice. "And it's about time we pay a visit we should have paid a long time ago."

Amsha shot him a puzzled look, her eyes shimmering with the moisture that had begun to form in the corner of her eyes. "To whom? What do you mean?"

Richard's eyes were fixed somewhere at the end of the room. "To Captain Robert Evans," he finally said with a dark scowl.

"He's here?," Amsha gasped for breath. "You mean, on the station?" Her eyes widened at the sudden news, her dark eyes searching for the truth in her husband's eyes.

Richard eventually nodded, his face grim. "They were on the same mission. I heard it from that Ferengi bartender. Everyone here on the station knows about the _Federation hero _Evans," he said with profound bitterness. "Robert is here, Amsha. He's been assigned by Starfleet to their mission. He's accompanied them to Atholes III, he's led their away team. He's been with them for more than a week now..."

"No...," Amsha shook her head in bewilderment, unable to believe her ears, at the same time shocked by the implications.

Richard went over to her, laying his arm around her trembling shoulder. "Do you think he knows...?" She asked him with a painful grimace.

"I'm not sure...," he conceded. " But we need to have a talk with Robert. The sooner the better."

Amsha shook her head. "Do you think he'll even listen?"

"He no longer has a choice."

* * *

Captain Robert Evans was stowing away his racquetball equipment in the back part of the closet in his bedroom, when the sudden chime of the door drew his attention. Reluctantly, he left the sports bag where it was, heading for the door to his quarters to see who was paying him a visit this late in the evening. Remembering Benjamin talking about a senior staff briefing first thing in the morning about the impending danger of an attack by the Dominion, he half expected the other Captain coming to hear his advice on the matter.

"Come in," he simply said, as he entered the living room.

When the door glided apart, and he glimpsed the two persons appearing behind it, he stopped dead in his track.

"Robert, it's about time we talk."

Not even waiting for Evans' reply – that surely would never have come anyway-, Richard entered his quarters, followed by a slightly reluctant Amsha in his wake.

They hadn't changed. Oddly enough, it was the first thing that crossed his mind. After all these years, they still looked almost the same. Richard's hair had turned gray, and Amsha looked a bit older, but nothing about them had really changed. He suddenly felt like having traveled back in time, back to another place, back to another life he had almost forgotten. It was a wistful feeling, but at the same time so utterly disturbing. Seeing them now standing in front of him, standing face to face with the persons he had once considered his closest friends, sent a strange shiver down his spine. It was like back in those days. As if every minute Miranda would come out to the living room to greet their guests, wrapping her arms around Amsha to tell her how happy she was to see her again. And he'd gesture for them to come in, have a place and tell him about their long journey. Miranda would bring some drinks and sweets. And they'd talk about life at the Federation colony, about news from Earth, about politics and Richard's recent plan of becoming a steward on a Starfleet shuttle service. He'd tell them about their own news, about how life on his new home world was turning out. He'd laugh with them, share their own plans for the future with them. And finally Miranda would take his hand, laying her warm hand in his, telling them with that typical sparkle in her eyes that she was the happiest person in the whole galaxy, that she would follow him to the end of the universe, to the remotest of all Starfleet outposts, just to be with him.

But Miranda was not here. And never would be again.

He didn't know where she was, or what had become of her after all these years they had spent apart. Only the thought of her lovely face, her sparkling eyes so alive with the zest for life and her long brown hair, welling over her slender shoulders, made a painful wave of melancholy wash over him. If she just were with him. If he just hadn't lost her...

"We need to talk," Richard said again, as he came closer, pulling Evans' thoughts back to the here-and-now. "But I think you already know why we're here."

Squaring his shoulders, Evans met Richard's eyes with a blank expression, at the same time shoving back the overwhelming anguish he felt building inside him. "Actually, I don't."

Amsha's shot him a disbelieving look. "It's about Jules."

His face was cold and expressionless as steel, when he moved casually over to the couch, taking a place without asking them to do likewise. "I don't know who you're talking about," he simply said.

"Stop it, Robert!" Amsha said, taking a step forward in his direction. "You know exactly whom we're talking about. Jules is your son, and you know it!"

The captain's voice was icy when he spoke, his eyes narrowing, fixed on the two newcomers in front of him. "I don't have a son. And now I want you to leave my quarters unless you want me to call security."

"Do you have any idea what became of Jules after that evening? Have you ever bothered to check what happened to the boy? But I guess you already know," Amsha continued bitterly. "You know what happened to him, don't you?"

Evan's drew himself up, his face twisted with anger. "And even if I knew, would it change anything?" His voice turned into a warning hiss. "No, it changes nothing. Jules Evans died 25 years ago. He's left my life, he's left Miranda's life, and nothing that happens now will ever change anything about this. Jules Evans is dead. So don't you dare bring up the boy's name to me any more!"

"But Julian is going to lose everything! Are you ready to do the same mistake all over again?" Richard retorted hotly. "Are you really ready to destroy his life once again? Julian is no longer the little Jules you knew."

"Because you had him genetically engineered? It's easy to demand things from others and escape responsibility yourself that easily!" He laughed humorlessly. "Jules," he hissed, speaking the name with a venom that made Amsha flinch, "has destroyed my life. Because of the boy I've lost everything." Turning his back at them, he walked some few meters toward the viewport. "It's none of my business what's going to happen to him," he said threateningly without meeting their gazes.

"How can you say that? Jules is your son. If we don't do anything soon, it might be too late." Amsha couldn't keep her voice from shaking.

"So be it," Evans bellowed. "It's none of my business. I don't care what will become of Jules, Julian or whomever. You took care of the boy? Fine, one reason less to worry."

A short moment of stifling silence passed between them. "Jules' condition is getting worse with every hour. You saw him after Atholes III. He'd forgotten about what happened in his childhood. For over 25 years he hadn't been able to remember. He'd forgotten about you, Miranda and your home. He'd forgotten about the life he had, he'd even forgotten about the person he was. But something went wrong. We don't know why he's remembering so suddenly. It shouldn't be, and no one ever thought that it could even be possible. But Jules is remembering," Richard said in a calm and controlled voice. It wasn't hard to see the different emotions battle each other behind Evans' still expressionless facade.

"Captain Sisko is investigating. Do you think he'll be fooled so easily? He's trying to save him. He's doing all he can to find out what happened in his childhood. We can't help Jules but with the truth."

Evans shot them a dark, frightening scowl. "What is now going to happen to Jules, is not my problem. There are rules you have to keep to. You cannot bend or twist them at your own convenience. Rules are rules. I didn't make them. But I, for my part, have kept to the agreement. Now it is up to you to do the same. I'm sorry but the doctor has to solve this problem on his own."

"Robert!"

Before Richard could utter another word, Evans had raised his hand to his combadge. "Evans to security."

"Odo here, what is it, Captain?"

Richard hesitated a moment, his face twisted into an angry grimace of contempt. Finally, he nodded. Without another word, he turned on his heels, taking his wife with him as he headed out of Evans' quarters.

"I'm sorry, Constable. It was only false alarm."

* * *

_Hesitating, he stood in the doorway, his gaze directed fearfully at the dark shadows that were dancing in ugly and scaring shapes over the carpet. The next roar of thunder made him flinch and tears shoot into his eyes. He pressed the brown teddy bear closer to his chest._

_He didn't dare enter the room, still standing indecisively on the threshold. But he also couldn't go back. The shadows were everywhere, under his bed, in his closet, on the ceiling of his room. He was so scared of them..._

_He didn't dare turn back, his gaze fixed on the unmoving figures in front of him. He so desperately wanted to run over to them. They'd protect him. He'd be safe in their arms._

_The next thunder made him squeeze his eyes shut, the fear of the shadows lurking in his back finally gaining the upper hand, making him stumble along the side of the bed, through the darkness, until he reached the upper end of the bed._

"_Mum...," he whispered fearfully. She didn't move._

"_Mum...," he tried again in a slurred, pleading voice, about to break yet again into tears._

_Another thunder rolled over him, and in its up-flashing light, he could see her head slowly turn into his direction._

_Wordlessly he stood before her, his fingers digging anxiously into the soft fur of the teddy bear._

"_Jules...?"_

_Even if he wasn't able to see her face, her voice sounded soft and gentle. Perhaps she wouldn't be angry with him this time._

_When he saw her hand reaching out to him, he instinctively ducked his head, but when he felt her gently stroke over his rumpled hair, he directed his pleading gaze back at her. _

"_Up you go...," she said in a sleepy, murmuring voice, holding the side of her bedcover up for him to crawl in beside her._

_Without a second thought, he climbed up into her bed, curling up next to her. He felt her gather him up in her arms, taking him into a gentle embrace and giving him a soft kiss on his dark hair._

_He didn't even hear the next rolling thunder, when his grip around the teddy bear relaxed and he had fallen asleep._

_# # # # # # # # # #  
_

_Warm, bright sunlight was filtering in through the white curtains at the window, and with it came a pleasantly soft breeze that carried with it the sweet scent of a warm summer morning. Snuggling his face against the soft pillow, feeling the warmth and safety of the soft bedcover around him, he only reluctantly opened his eyes. He gingerly squinted into the room from beneath the brown teddy bear that lay against his face, silently hoping that they wouldn't notice that he was already awake. Perhaps they'd allow him to stay a little longer. Being gathered up in her arms had felt so good..._

"_So, see you this evening." From beneath his cover, he could see the two figures on the end of the bed talking to each other._

_The taller of the two figures bent down to kiss the smaller one._

"_I think I'll prepare something special for your when you come home tonight." Jules could feel the smile, even though he couldn't see it._

_Then the taller figure suddenly turned, coming closer in his direction. Holding his breath, he watched the figure step next to the bed._

_Even before he could squeeze his eyes shut, the taller figure was bending down toward him, gently turning the teddy bear aside.  
_

_Jules' eyes were wide with wonder, when Robert Evans placed a tender kiss on his forehead before he left the bedroom with a last, loving smile back at the two of them._


	6. Chapter 14

**- Chapter 14 -**

"The situation doesn't look good, Captain."

Kira was pacing restlessly to and fro in the captain's office, one hand absently at her chin when she finally came to a halt in front of the broad desk, propping herself on its smooth, black surface.

"Over the last few days, the Cardassians have ordered more than half a dozen additional ships to the Cardassian border – to say nothing of the Dominion Jem'Hadar strike ships that have followed in their wake. They've taken position along the border and, as far as we can see, they've been staying in the same waiting position for more than 12 hours now..." She sighed in audible resignation, massaging her stiff neck after having spent the last few hours with a thorough tactical analysis of the recent enemy activity closer to the Bajoran space than she would have liked. Sisko was studying the PADD she had given him with a dark frown, stroking absently over his beard before he finally set it aside next to him on the table.

"I'm aware of the seriousness of our situation, Major. And I wish we had more of a choice in this matter. The _Victoria_ and the _Qalmoh_ are already on their way to the station, as is General Martok with some other Klingon ships. I talked to Admiral Ross a short while ago. The station's security is to be a top priority. But until further reinforcements from Starfleet arrive at the station, we'll be on our own," Sisko replied in a calm voice, not willing to jump at conclusions and let panic spread across his crew which would do more bad than good in the end. They couldn't yet be sure what exactly the Dominion had in mind. There had been no reports from Starfleet Intelligence on the matter. He had to admit that it stroke him as odd that Starfleet would have no further information about what was going on around DS9, on the literal threshold to the wormhole, but as Admiral Ross had been insistent that DS9 be not in any immediate danger, there was nothing Sisko could do but take the admiral's word for it. Still, when there was one thing he'd learned during the last few years of war, it was that one shouldn't underrate the whims of fate. In either case, they needed to be prepared. "We need to set up an evacuation plan with our current resources. I'll ask Commander Worf to run several simulations. Dax, I want you to assist the Commander. Try to make the evacuation procedures as efficient as possible. If it comes to the crunch, we need to get the people out of here as fast as possible."

Kira looked up sharply at his words. "So you're certain then?" It sounded as if she had half hoped for Sisko to dismiss her doubts as mere pessimism.

"The Dominion is up to something, there's no doubt to that," Dax interjected sternly. "Why else would they bother to increase their number of ships so near to the Bajoran space? If you ask me, we shouldn't waste any more time and start with the evacuation of all civilians on board the station as soon as possible. If we use the freighters currently docked on the station, we could get half of them off the station and transfer them to Bajor within the hour. It might be exactly the one hour we won't have in the case of an attack. "

"One hour? For evacuating a whole space station?" Kira snorted. She didn't like being driven into a corner.

"Get the _Defiant _ready, Major. If it's going to happen, I want to be ready for it," Sisko nodded grimly toward the major.

"Aye, Sir," she acknowledged curtly, turning on her heel and heading out of his office and for the turbolift, obviously glad about being able to take at least some measure of action. He couldn't blame her. She'd never exactly been one for sitting just there, doing nothing and waiting for death to knock on her door...

"I'm not sure if the station is really prepared for an attack of this scale," Dax shot Sisko a worried glance. "Even with our defense systems fully online and Captain Wieland and the _Defiant_ at our side, we won't last very long against a strike force of such superiority. Not without some strong allies in our backs..."

Sisko sighed, running a hand over his tired, grainy eyes. It felt as if he hadn't slept in days. "I know. Half a dozen Cardassian warships and as many Jem'Hadar strike ships... and that's only the number of ships we know that are definitely out there," he said at length. "All we can do now is wait. Let's hope that the _Victoria_ and the _Qalmoh_ make it to the station ahead of schedule. And contact Captain Wieland to inform him about the impending evacuation measures."

Even before the young Trill could acknowledge the orders, their conversation was interrupted by the sudden hiss of the double doors to the captain's office. Involuntarily lifting his gaze, Sisko couldn't help his eyes widen in surprise when he realized who had just stepped into his office.

"We need to talk to you, Captain Sisko."

* * *

Julian Bashir half ran, half stumbled along the long, winding corridor of the habitat ring, some remote part of his mind grateful for the late hour and the almost deserted passageways, with no person in sight who would see the horror that he knew must be written all over his face. Rounding another corner, he almost tripped over a young ensign of the technical maintenance unit, kneeling on the floor and grappling with a tangle of luminescent circuits at his feet. Mumbling some swift and barely audible words of excuse, Julian paid no attention to the startled and questioning look of the young man, calling after him if everything was alright.

He'd seen him. He'd seen Evans. In one of the many, endlessly recurring, dreadful dreams, he'd seen him.

And remembered.

Everything.

Swallowing hard against the queasiness in his stomach and the painful tightness in his throat, he struggled to keep the upwelling emotions at bay, to push them aside far enough to find a clear thought in the wild chaos of images and feelings in his mind. Ever faster flew the dimmed lighting of the corridor by, his heartbeat quickening with every hurried step he made it nearer to his goal. It was the all-consuming, fierce fire burning in his chest that drove him forward, that made him oblivious to every other thing around and made him stumble on like a drowning man with only one purpose in mind – Evans.

At the mere thought of the older captain, a wave of nausea and dread took his breath.

_Evans. _

He remembered his eyes, so cold and distant. The same gray eyes he had once learned to respect and fear. The same eyes that had watched him so disapprovingly this morning in the infirmary. He remembered them. How could he ever have forgotten them in the first place?

It had to stop. It had to stop here and now. The nightmares, the fear and despair, this feeling of utter helplessness... they all were pieces of a greater puzzle. He'd never wanted to see its truth, had refused to learn more about that dark, scaring part inside himself. But he no longer could. He was with his back against the wall, there was nowhere else to go. More than ever he was struggling in the floods of darkness for his life.

When his hand forcefully hit the door chime, he didn't even bother to wait for an answer, storming into the room as soon as the door parted.

"What...?"

The older captain had been sitting on the couch of his quarters, a steaming cup of tea in one hand, a PADD in the other, when his head went up in a mixture of surprise and bewilderment at the sudden intrusion. Putting the PADD aside, he placed the cup absently back on the table and drew himself up, staring at the young man in puzzled disbelief. When his mind finally realized who had just stumbled over his threshold, his eyes involuntarily narrowed, his usually gentle features drawing into a wary frown.

"Can I help you, Doctor?" he asked in a rather detached voice, waiting patiently for the young man to voice his business in spite of the rather unexpected and rude nature of his visit.

Julian stopped dead in his track, rooted to the spot as the door behind him hissed back in place. His heart was pounding up into his throat and the rushing blood in his ears was so loud that he at first didn't realize that Evans had spoken. It wasn't until after a few more seconds that he finally found his voice.

"You knew it," he burst out without thinking, his voice thick with emotions.

A long moment of heavy silence passed between them, neither of them saying a word, Evans watching him stone-faced. Then the older captain came slowly closer, his posture conveying a startling resoluteness and authority. "What is it I should have known, Doctor?" he asked in a still calm voice, addressing the flustered young man in front of him with a quiet and patient tone as if he was speaking to a child about to throw a tantrum.

"You... have known it all the time, haven't you?"

Trying to fight the relentless wave of overwhelming emotions, Julian's face twisted into a grimace of pure anguish. If it just didn't hurt so much. It felt as if something unyielding and cold had wrapped itself tightly around his heart, squeezing with its iron grip until Julian felt empty and numb with pain.

He still couldn't believe that he was standing face to face to a man, who had vanished out of his life more than 25 years ago. A man whose real identity he had learned only minutes ago but who had influenced his whole life in a way he would never be able to forgive. Staring at Evans, at the towering figure in front of him, he felt one thing above all: Shame. How could he have forgotten him so easily? After all what happened. How could he have lost his own past? All those years of his childhood, his memories, his own self?

When Evans kept silent, he almost feared that the older captain would deny it. That he would tell him that he didn't know what he was talking about, sending him back to this quarters, telling him that everything must be a terrible misunderstanding. But to Julian's surprise, he didn't.

An eternity passed before Evans finally replied. When he did, his voice was still calm and reasonable, his face giving no hint as to his real emotions. "I didn't know," he slowly said. "Not until after our mission on Atholes III." No remorse, no excuse, only a plain simple statement. Professional. As he had always been.

"Why haven't you said anything? Why... haven't you done anything?" Julian wasn't able to hold back his rising anger.

The older captain chuckled humorlessly, snorting. "Because it's none of my business," he simply said.

"None of your business? How... can you say that? After all you've done!" the young man demanded incredulously. His composure was slipping with every second – but he didn't really care. When there was one thing he felt clearly through the thick haze in his mind, it was the noose of despair that kept tightening relentlessly every so slowly around his neck.

Evans casually rounded the couch, absently running a hand over the length of it. Turning his back at the young man who stood still motionless next to the door, the captain's gaze wandered to some distant point outside the viewport. "I'm no more a part of your life than you are of mine. You know it. Our lives don't have the slightest link. What good would it have done to say anything, least of all do anything? After all these years, we're two strangers to each other. I'm no more your father than you are my son. That's the way it has been for the last 25 years. And that is the way we should keep it."

Julian listened to the older man's words without taking any of them really in, the hot anger burning in his chest finally gaining the upper hand. "How can you say that? You're standing here, acting as if nothing ever happened. Acting as if nothing of it really concerned you. But it does. It damn does! You can't make what happened undone. You don't have any right to do so. You don't have any damn right to tell me what to do. Because I remember what happened between you and me. I know what you did to me!" he called out vehemently, finally making the other man turn back to him. When their gazes met, Julian involuntarily flinched at the cold hatred he suddenly saw in the other man's eyes.

"Listen to yourself! You don't have any idea what really happened back then! Stop talking as if you knew everything." For the first time, Evans' face drew into a disgusted grimace, a mask of contempt. "You say you remembered those days. I doubt it," he said bitterly. "You don't even remember half of it. Take it from me."

"I know what happened back then! I know what you did to me!" Julian all but shouted in a desperate attempt at freeing himself from the dark, heavy embrace of his own terrifying memories. Trying to struggle free from the dark hand that was reaching out for him, closing itself with its icy touch around his throat. All the time he'd been haunted by the nightmares, all the time he'd spent in fear of what they would reveal next. Evans was the key. If he wanted to stop whatever was happening to him, he'd have to face the truth of his past in all its ugliness. In a final desperate effort of self-protection, he summoned his last strength to wrap himself into a cocoon of anger and rage. Evans had hurt him once, he wouldn't let him hurt him again.

When Evans suddenly moved forward, shortening the distance between them, Julian involuntarily backed away.

"_I_ did to _you_?" the older man said again in a calm voice that came all the more threatening. "I think you're wrong. The question is, do you know what _you_ did to _me_? Do you have any idea what you did to Miranda?"

Julian's shoulders trembled when he shook his head at the sheer madness of it. "No... that's not true." His voice came out barely more than a hoarse whisper.

But Evans all but ignored the young man's feeble attempt at defending himself. "_You..._," he said, thrusting a finger at him as if to emphasize his words. "... have destroyed our lives, _Jules,..._" he spoke the name in a loathing hiss that made they young man's heart stop dead in his chest, "...and the future we've always thought would be ours. And Miranda..." Evans' voice all of a sudden broke under the heavy weight of the painful memories. Only bringing her name over his lips was more than he could bear right now. Even after all these years, he mourned over her loss as if death itself had taken her away from him.

"That didn't give you any right to punish me for it! No matter how slow, or bad at school I was, no matter how much of a burden or disappointment I was to you, you and Mum didn't have any right to make me responsible for everything that went wrong in you lives! But you did. Both of you," Julian yelled back at him. Hot tears of shame and despair shot into his eyes, his hands balling into fists when he felt another wave of burning rage roll over him at the memory.

"You don't understand that," was everything the older captain retorted in a voice as cold as ice.

"No, it's you who doesn't understand! I was six. And you treated my like I was responsible for your bad fortune. Every day you made me feel how little I mattered to you. I was a child, damn! The only thing I wanted was being loved. You can't imagine how it is to be afraid of your own parents. To be afraid of doing something wrong, of being punished or of being forever left alone." Even while he was shouting at Evans, he was propelled forward by some inner force. It was as if his body was acting on its own. Like it wasn't really he who was shouting at Evans. Like he was nothing more than a simple spectator in his own body.

But still the pain inside him was only too real. A pain so profound and penetrating, so heavy and consuming, trying to tighten his throat so as not to say aloud how much he had been suffering during the years he had spent with Evans. How much he was still suffering. Trying to hinder him from saying aloud what was slowly but surely eating him up alive.

"You've abandoned your own son! You've abandoned me! And now you come here, telling me it doesn't concern you, acting as if nothing ever happened?"

Startled by Julian's unexpected vehement reaction, Evans stumbled a few feet back, bringing the couch between them. Not for a single second did he take his eyes away from the young man's anger contorted face. Finally, a thin smile played over his lips. A smile of triumph.

"And yet you're standing here today. I don't actually see that you had any problems without me. A small genetic enhancement here, some illegal improvement there. Look at you, Jules, there's not much left of the son I had."

It came like a punch in the face.

"That... wasn't my decision," Julian replied flatly.

"No? Oh, I forgot, you never had any choice. Poor little Jules, so forlorn and forsaken by god and the word," Evans said in a mocking voice. "Have you any idea how hard it was for us as parents?"

When Julian didn't respond, Evans continued relentlessly: "My career, my future, my plans for our family... it all dissolved into nothingness. I've lost everything. Even Miranda. And it all is your fault, Jules. Your fault alone."

Evans came closer until he was face to face with the young man. Julian still held his gaze defiantly.

"You've destroyed my life, Jules. Tell me, how could I have been grateful for that? Did you really expect me to be thankful for the miserable life I had been forced to lead? Every damn day making things worse, showing me how much my life was going into the wrong direction? And then there was you..."

It was mad. Even though the older captain's words had touched his ears, Julian's mind was frantically struggling to deny them. Hearing the truth out of the other man's mouth, being told what he had once felt deep within his heart without ever daring to acknowledge it, he felt as if the world around him shattered into hundreds of thousands of pieces. Staring numbly at the towering figure in front of him, he wanted nothing more than to break down and weep over the madness his life had turned into. But still, he knew that it would change nothing. And the despair of the situation and his utter helplessness unleashed an even greater anger within him.

"You never thought about how I felt! You never gave it a second thought what you did to me! Even on Mum's birthday. Do you know how much effort I put into drawing the picture for her? And she didn't even give it a look! It was the worst thing you could have done to me!" he yelled, seeing the pictures of that fateful day replay in an agonizing slowness before his mind's eye.

"You didn't have a right to hold me responsible for everything that went wrong in your life! You damn didn't have any right to hit me. You didn't have any right! But you deserve it. Everything you lost, every unfulfilled dream. You damn deserve it! Both of you, you and Mu...!"

Even before Julian could shout at him how much he wished for them to never find a way to happiness again, Evans all at once raised his hand and slapped him across the face with a force that sent the young man's head flying violently to the right.

"Don't you dare talk to me in that tone, Jules," Evans hissed between clenched teeth.

Utterly startled and in a state of shock, Julian took his hand to his burning cheek, staring at Evans with eyes wide with disbelief and horror.

"You don't know anything. Smug and arrogant. You think you know everything better, but you've done enough harm."

The all-consuming fire in his chest had evaporated the instant Evans had hit him. Now, there was only one feeling filling the emptiness within him: Fear. He'd do it again. Evans would strike him again - or do something even worse to him. He knew it with a dead certainty, and the realization sent a paralyzing dread through his trembling body. Unable to take his terrified eyes off the other man, Julian began to stumble awkwardly backwards.

# # # # # # # # # #

"_I won't let you take what's left of my miserable life, Jules. I've spent the last 25 years without you. It was a blessing compared to the years before. And I'll see to it that it remains so."_

_Unable to find any coherent thought, he stumbled ever backwards, his fearful eyes fixed on Evans. He had to run. Everything in him was urging him to break into a run. If he ran fast enough, they wouldn't get him. He'd be safe._

_If just his legs would obey him. He still stood thunderstruck, unable to run away from the threatening darkness that was building all around him. Tears were running down cheeks, when he thrust both arms protectively up in front of his face, sagging helplessly down to the floor._

"_Leave me alone!" he sobbed between desperate tears. "Please, leave me alone!"_

* * *

Richard Bashir reluctantly entered the Captain's office, holding his wife's hand in his own.

"We need to talk to you, Captain Sisko," Richard said gravely, nodding slightly toward the young Trill when he noticed her at the captain's side. Having obviously registered Sisko's rather puzzled gaze, Richard almost automatically cleared his throat.

"It's about Julian..."

The instant he had seen them come through the door to his office, some unmistakable feeling had told him that the situation out in the Bajoran space was not the only one getting dangerously serious. Somehow he had been sure that sooner or later he would find some answers, but the sudden turn in events now took him completely off guard. "Come in," he gestured for them to take a seat, intent on getting them to talk to him before they could make up their minds in the last minute.

When Amsha and Richard hesitantly followed the captain's gesture, Dax stepped next to Sisko's side. Even before the captain could address the Bashirs to ask what exactly the reason for their sudden visit was, Richard had already leaned forward in his chair, fixing them with an unexpected intense gaze.

"Please, don't misunderstand our reluctance in this matter, Captain Sisko. There are things – rules and commitments – you as captain of Starfleet might understand best. And no matter what you might think of us, we haven't taken this issue lightly. We've thought about it a lot. And we will help you, because Jules is our son and his well-being is of immediate importance to us..."

When Richard paused to emphasize his words, Sisko nodded. "I'm glad to see you." Even if he didn't know what had made them come to him so suddenly, or what exactly had changed their minds in the first place, he wasn't willing to let this opportunity slip away.

"It is..." Richard began awkwardly, not before he had another quick look around to make sure that his words wouldn't get to the wrong ears, "...a long story but Jules... is not... our own son."

Richard's words were met by a rather doubtful look on the captain's face, and a startled frown on the young Trill's. It was about the last thing they had expected to hear. Dax couldn't help a dismayed grimace. "But... who are his real parents then?" she asked half in reflex even before she was aware of it.

For a long time no further word was said, until Richard finally took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders as if it took him all his strength to bring the next words over his lips. A dark and painful shadow crossed his wary features, his gaze suddenly dropping to the floor.

"Robert and Miranda Evans," he slowly said.

"You mean..." Sisko began in disbelief, his interest more than sparked, "_the_ Robert Evans who's currently with us on the station? The Captain Evans who had been assigned to our mission on Atholes III?"

Amsha nodded with a sad smile. "Captain Robert Evans is Jules' real father."

"That's why they both got along so well," Dax commented to no one in particular.

Richard suddenly shook his head, looking up sharply. "No, it's not that simple," he hurried to interject. "Jules doesn't know that Robert is his real father. He doesn't know that he was adopted as a child - and Robert himself hadn't been aware of it until a short while ago. He must have learned it some time after your return from Atholes III..."

"But..." Sisko absently stroke his beard. "...how is that possible?"

"It was.. a long time ago. A very long time indeed," Richard stalled. Feeling the questioning gaze of the captain, he sighed: "Julian was about to turn seven. Shortly before his genetic enhancements."

"What happened?" Sisko tried in a reassuring voice, even though he thought he already knew the answer. He just needed to put one and one together. The way Julian had acted on Atholes III, the way his parents – _adoptive parents_ he corrected himself, not without a strange, rather unreal feeling – were now sitting in front of him. Suddenly it made all a startling sense. Though he didn't like it at all.

Amsha absently reached for her husband's hand, turning her gaze at him and waiting for some sign to go on and tell them what had been kept secret for far too long.

"You have to know," she finally said hesitatingly, "Miranda and I had been close friends in those days... and even Richard and Robert were always enjoying each others company." She let her gaze wander to the viewport, a distant look on her face. "After Miranda had moved from Earth to Atholes III and began to help with the negotiations between the Lennarean and Morani, we didn't have the opportunity to see each other very often. We mainly kept contact over subspace – and every now and then, when Richard's work would bring us any near the colony, we would use that chance to stop by for a visit. They were always so happy to see us. They always told us how exciting and beautiful life at the new Starfleet colony was. That we should give it a try ourselves. That it felt like paradise itself. When she told me about her pregnancy, I felt so happy for her..."

Richard took Amsha's hand. "We've always wanted a child ourselves, Captain Sisko," Richard said. "But somehow it never happened..."

"That's why I felt so happy for Miranda. She was literally glowing with impending motherhood, and so much looking forward to their child," Amsha said with a subtle sigh. "After that, we tried to visit them as often as possible. The first time we saw them all together, was shortly after Jules had been born... He was such a lovely and cute little boy. But when he got older... it became clear that Jules wasn't like other children. He wasn't able to do the things other children did at his age. He was so lively and sweet – but didn't develop in the same way his classmates did..."

Leaning forward in his chair, Sisko propped his elbows on the desk. It was hard not to notice how difficult it was for Amsha to speak about those events in her past. Shaking his head, he finally asked: "Then it had actually been Evans who decided to get Julian genetically enhanced?"

Richard looked up at this. "No," he replied swiftly. "It's not that easy."

Amsha nodded. "Even though Jules was such a dear boy – Miranda and Robert have never overcome the disappointment and disillusion of their perfect world. Robert had always lived for his career. And Miranda had been highly skilled as a diplomat. But still, they hadn't been up to the challenge with the boy. They'd both always dreamed of a perfect family, a perfect live in perfect surroundings. And Jules just hadn't fit into this picture."

"Has Evans ever hit Julian?" Sisko asked straight forward.

Amsha turned a sad look at him, before she let her eyes drop again to the floor. "Even if it is hard to imagine – Robert must have broken under the pressure and disappointment. He... must have seen no way out of it."

Dax threw a short side glance at Sisko, before she directly addressed both Bashirs.

"What happened back then. What is Julian so afraid of?"

For a long moment, Richard kept just silent, as if he were still struggling with himself about how much he could tell them.

Finally, he nodded.

"As I've already said, it was a long time ago..." he began. "It was on Miranda's birthday. We had promised to visit them on this special occasion, and Miranda had been looking forward to it for weeks. We hadn't seen them for a while, so we were more than happy to see Jules again after all that time. We took a hotel in Northport, not far away from where Robert and Miranda were living." Turning his gaze up toward the ceiling, as if he could still see the sky of those time up there, he continued: "I still remember what a cold and gloomy day it was. It had been raining all day. And somehow the omen of something bad to happen already hung in the air..."


	7. Chapter 15

**- Chapter 15 -**

"Happy Birthday, Miranda. May all your wishes and dreams come true!"

"Thank you so much, Richard. And you, Amsha! I'm so glad you were able to come." Miranda wrapped her arms around them in turn. "How long has it been? I was beginning to fear we would never find a chance to see each other again!" The young woman was smiling happily when she finally let go of her friend. "How was the journey? You must be tired, just have a seat. You have to tell me everything. I'm so excited to hear what's been happening on Earth. Just one moment! I'll be with you in just a moment!" A mischievous grin spread across her slender features, when she rubbed her hands one against the other. "But the long way to Atholes III was worth it, believe me! I made some cake – some real cake! Not out of the replicator – but fresh out of the oven. Robert, please show our guests to the living room, will you?" With that she turned with a wink, disappearing swiftly into the adjacent kitchen.

Robert watched her leave with a loving smile. Sighing, he shook his head. "She's been like this the whole morning. I hope she's gotten the ingredients right..."

Amsha couldn't help a grin. "Oh, believe me. Even if she got half of them wrong, it still would taste better than anything we had for days."

Robert just chuckled, ushering his guests into the living room with its neatly arranged and decorated dining table. "I hope she's not again looking for those candles. She's been searching for them for hours. You know, the ones that sparkle when you light them..." he said with a raised eyebrow, leading them to the couch and gesturing for them to make themselves comfortable. "Please, have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?" he offered.

Richard shook his head, raising both hands. "No, thanks. Coffee will be just fine."

Amsha declined as well, taking an interested look around. Everything was tidied up and right in place. Miranda must have spent the whole morning preparing everything for her guests' visit. About to settle herself onto the couch, she noticed a piece of white paper lying on the side of it. It was turned upside down so you couldn't see what was written on it. Cautiously, she picked it up. When her gaze fell on the quivering and shakily drawn landscape, she couldn't help a smile. There was no doubt who had drawn the picture.

"Did Jules draw this?" Richard asked instead, bending closer to her to have a better look at the colorful landscape. Even though he couldn't tell what exactly it should portrait, the picture was full of life.

"Yes..." Robert replied slowly with a crooked smile, reaching out to take the picture. "This is Jules' present to his mother."

"He must have put a lot of effort into it." Amsha let Robert take the picture and put it on the sideboard next to them. Only now she realized that the boy hadn't been with them when Robert and Miranda had given them such a warm welcome...

"Where is Jules, anyway? Isn't he here?" It stroke Amsha as slightly odd that she hadn't seen him yet. He usually came curiously running over to greet them every time they visited – even though their visits were too seldom and far in between for him to really know who they were. But still, she had been looking so much forward to seeing him again. It had been almost a year now that they had last had the chance to stop by for a visit. He surely must have grown quite a bit. She smiled inwardly at the thought.

"Jules isn't feeling well," Miranda replied in a stern voice, just as she came back from the kitchen, balancing the birthday cake on a tray in front of her. "He's in his room, getting some rest."

"Is he ill?" Amsha asked in concern.

Miranda hurried to shake her head, a wry, rather forced smile on her lips. "No, just a bit tired. He didn't sleep well last night. But no need to worry, he's fine. You know how children are. Tomorrow he'll be up and about again."

Amsha nodded. "I see."

When Miranda urged them to take a seat at the dining table and placed the elaborately decorated cake in their middle, Richard raised one brow. She hadn't exaggerated. It really looked delicious. And by far better than the second-class replicator rations they had dared to call "food" on their journey here. Before she took a seat herself, however, Miranda threw a quick side glance at Robert and finally said as if in an afterthought: "I'll go and fetch Jules. I'm sure he'll be happy to see you." Even before Robert could form a reply, Miranda had already turned, leaving the room with a quick, apologetic smile.

Only a few minutes later, she came back with him.

When Amsha saw the boy, something involuntarily made her halt. He looked anxious, awkwardly holding his mother's hand. He didn't face them, just kept staring silently at his own feet. Even though she knew that Jules had never been an overly extroverted child and that he was – in spite of his rather cheerful nature – rather shy in the company of strangers, he looked especially small and fragile in this moment. She felt a twinge of worry at his withdrawn sight, though she couldn't quite place the feeling. She shook her head. Perhaps she was just imagining things. Miranda had told them that Jules wasn't feeling well. Perhaps this was why he looked so pale. But she was sure that Richard must have noticed too, for he involuntarily stopped for a short moment to transport the piece of cake to his plate.

"Hello, Jules," Amsha tried in a gentle and friendly voice, offering her most reassuring smile. It had been almost a year since she had last seen him. She wondered if he remembered her...

The boy lifted his head for a moment, smiling shyly back at her, before Miranda let go of his hand to tell him to sit down next to them at the table. Without another word, she took the empty plate in front of him to place a small piece of cake on it.

"So how is Earth? How are things at home?" Miranda began lightly, as soon as she'd taken care that everyone had enough coffee and cake.

Amsha smiled amiably. "To tell the truth: everything is exactly as it has been for years. You haven't missed much."

Miranda shook her head. "I guess the weather is still as bad as always? If there is one thing I definitely don't miss, it's that rainy, cloudy weather back on Earth. One thing I never understood: why don't they use weather control systems? I mean, we're living in the 23 rd century. You would believe that after all the terra-forming technology, they would be able to control their own weather on Earth. They do on Risa. Why can't they do the same on Earth?"

Amsha bit back a smile. Miranda had never liked the cold, damp days in their little hometown in England. Even in school, she'd always been yearning for leaving the country, first to attend the Starfleet academy in San Francisco and then – after she'd realized that a life on one of Starfleet's space stations or research ships was not exactly what she had had in mind – even for leaving the academy to embark on a journey to discover something startling and new. She'd never been one for daily routines or a normal nine to five day, least of all for life in a tight-knit community in a small town in the back of beyond.

"Why don't you come to Atholes III? Just give it a try! It's really not that bad," Robert threw in, chewing, as if he had read Amsha's mind.

"But it's so far away from home. We'd have to give up all we've built up so far," Richard replied with a frown. "And there's still the problem with the rather weak peace treaty between those other two systems..."

After that, it didn't take them long to lose themselves yet again in another endless conversation about Federation policy and the possibility of a war between the adjacent systems Hiar and Betah, Miranda supplying them with the latest first-hand news about what was really going on around Atholes III. Sitting together and discussing things over a cup of coffee was a totally different thing than talking to each other over a small comm panel over subspace and they all enjoyed the rare chance of spending some real time together. While Miranda, Robert and Richard began another discussion about what to do if the colony really got into danger, Amsha's affectionate gaze went over to where Jules was sitting. She offered him an encouraging smile, though the boy was too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice her. He was trying to load a piece of cake onto his fork, though his hands were to shaky and his concentration too low to lift it even halfway up to his mouth. No matter how often he tried, he wouldn't manage.

She bent over to him, gently took the fork from his hand and scraped the piece of cake onto it. When she lifted it for him, Jules' surprised gaze went up to meet hers - and when she smiled back at him, he took the piece of cake with his mouth, grinning.

The sudden clink of a fork that was forcefully knocked down on the table next to her made her startle and turn her head in surprise. Miranda had stopped her conversation and was sitting thunderstruck next to her, staring at both of them with a face that had gone as white as chalk. Amsha couldn't tell what feeling she saw on her friend's face but she had known her too long not to notice the only just suppressed anger in her pale features. It had been quite a while since she had last seen Miranda lose her temper in front of others...

For some seconds, no one dared to say a word.

"By the way, how is Mr. Quendro doing, Robert? Does he still have that travel agency you told me of?" Richard finally tried to ease the sudden tension that had descended upon their little meeting, gesturing with his fork, to draw his friend's attention.

For a moment, Robert's eyes flickered to Jules, but then he nodded, a weary smile spreading across his lips. "He still believes that tourism will blossom in Northport in the future. I've told him so many times that he better come up with another business idea, but he just wouldn't listen. He's literally obsessed with the idea to turn Northport into a prospering tourist resort."

"That just leaves the question: Who'll be his customers? Northport has just overcome its first initial difficulties. I don't think he can count on Northport's inhabitants."

Miranda watched her husband with a dark frown. The color had somewhat returned to her face, though there still was a feeling of profound sadness to her features. "Anyway, it's not even clear if the colony has any future at all," she said in a rather dull voice, taking a sip of her coffee.

Richard shot her a concerned look. "Is a war so inevitable?"

"If the Morani won't give in very soon, I'm afraid yes. I've never seen two peoples who can be so stubborn. I don't even want to think about what a war between them will do to our home and Atholes III," she sighed in resignation.

"What about Starfleet?" Richard frowned. "I'm sure they've already thought about different scenarios."

"There's a Starfleet emergency evacuation plan in the case of the outbreak of a war. But still, we both hope it will never come to that. If both peoples would just -" Robert suddenly stopped in mid-sentence, a dark shadow crossing his face. His gaze was directed at Jules, who was leaning bent over the armrest of his chair and was feeding pieces of cake to the cat on the floor.

"Jules, that's enough. The cat has his own food," he said in an annoyed voice.

The boy visibly startled, his head coming up for only a short moment, before his timid gaze dropped back down to the floor and the gray cat that was padding idly out of the room. His gaze followed the cat yearningly.

"May I?" Jules' voice was barely audible when he spoke. Without waiting for a reply, he slid down from the chair, heading after the cat, obviously oblivious to his father's growing anger.

"Jules! You'll come back immediately, you hear me!" Robert called out unexpected vehemently, though the boy had already vanished round the corner.

"Just let him go, Robert," Richard offered calmingly. "He's a child. He must be bored to death by our conversation."

"He and the cat, full of mischief." Snorting, Robert turned back to his guests. "I'm sorry. It's not that we haven't tried to teach him some manners..."

Amsha swiftly shook her head, slightly embarrassed. "Oh, never mind. Really."

Miranda audibly cleared her throat, drawing their attention. A faint smile had returned to her lips. "If you like the cake, you'll love our dinner tonight," she said conspiratorially, arching one brow in an obvious effort to lift the mood. Amsha couldn't tell why, but somehow she seemed to breathe easier now. Her sudden gloomy mood seemed to have gone. Instead, she was even smiling. "Can I get you some more cake?"

* * *

It was the startled cry from the kitchen that suddenly made them interrupted their conversation. It was almost time for dinner. Miranda had just made her way to the kitchen to get the platters she said she had prepared earlier. Even though they couldn't understand her words now, it was more than obvious that Miranda was shouting in rage.

"What happened?" Amsha asked in bewilderment.

"I'll go and have a look. Just wait a minute," Robert said in puzzlement, hurrying toward the kitchen. Some minutes later, he came back, one arm wrapped soothingly around his wife's trembling shoulders. Miranda's face was still contorted with fury and hurt.

"The cat ate the food," she commented flatly, letting herself drop heavily into the chair. "I put so much effort into fixing it. But I guess, I shouldn't have left it so open in the kitchen. Why haven't I seen this coming?" She ran a hand over her face, rubbing at her eyes.

"Everything's going to be fine, Darling. We can as well order something from the replicator," Robert tried to calm her.

Miranda shook her head in frustration, a dark shadow crossing her features. "I don't think we'll have much choice..." was everything she replied. "I just wanted this day to be perfect," she whispered defiantly under her breath, the moisture already forming in the corners of her eyes. "That's not fair."

Amsha gently rubbed her upper arm in comfort. "Never mind. Things like this just happen. We'll be fine with the replicator. After all, the most important thing is that we're together. That alone was worth the long trip!" She tried to cheer her friend up.

Miranda just nodded.

Turning back into the direction of the kitchen, Robert suddenly scowled. "The cat will learn his lesson, I'll make sure of it."

Amsha involuntarily flinched at the cold remark. Robert's words were more than just words of comfort. They were meant as a threat. And the worst was, that Robert seemed to be serious. Slightly unsure, she threw a quick side glance at Richard. He held her gaze for just a moment, slightly shaking his head as if to say he wasn't quite sure what this was all about either.

Wiping the rest of the tears from her eyes, Miranda finally stood. "So, what can I get you?"

* * *

The rest of the evening was a rather short one. After the botched dinner, everyone's mood had hit rock bottom. Miranda seemed to be more than crestfallen about the incident, while Robert was acting palpably distant and cool. They finally gave it up and decided to call it a night sooner than they'd originally intended, promising to see each other the other day. As Richard and Amsha were staying in Northport for another few days, there was still plenty of time to spend some time with each other.

When Robert and Miranda walked their guests to the door, Amsha suddenly turned. "Where's Jules? I haven't seen him during the last hours..."

He hadn't joined them for dinner and only now she realized that she hadn't seen him for quite a while with all the chaos that had happened this evening.

Miranda shrugged apologetically. "He's already asleep. I guess it was just too much for him. I'll say goodbye to him for you."

"Okay, so see you tomorrow?" Amsha asked, slightly uncertain. She could clearly sense that something was wrong with Miranda. They had known each other since school, and Miranda was one of her best and closest friends she had ever had. She didn't need to put her worry into words to know that something was amiss with her. Something in Miranda's expression, however, kept her from pushing the issue further. She just hoped that Miranda was only stressed. The last weeks and months had been rather hard on her and no matter how much Miranda loved her job, even she would not go unaffected by the lengthy and tedious talks between the Lennarean and Morani. Amsha affectionately squeezed her hand, as if in comfort.

"See you tomorrow," Miranda replied with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, seeing Amsha and Richard off into the cool night air. It was the way she stopped at the door, waving them politely goodbye, that made Amsha, for the first time, aware of the distance that had grown between them over the last few years. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, or how often she told herself that nothing between them had really changed, she felt it clearly now. There was so much going on in their both lives, and just so little time to tell each other – or even to find the chance to talk to each other over subspace anyway. Seeing Miranda standing at the door to her new home, the arm of her husband wrapped around her shoulders, she suddenly felt the lightyears that separated them... She shook off the slight feeling of nostalgia.

When she stepped down the few stairs to the street, she involuntarily lifted her gaze toward the black sky. It was a dark night, without the soft light of Atholes III's two moons and the many pinprick-seized stars that were normally dotting the sky at night. Even at their arrival in the morning, thick clouds had rolled over the horizon to wrap the city into a cocoon of drizzly gray. Perhaps the bad weather had contributed to Miranda's bad mood today... It had been raining half of the day and even though the rain had obviously stopped in the meantime, it wouldn't take long until it started raining again. She could feel it in her bones. They'd need to hurry if they didn't want to be caught in another downpour.

Amsha linked arms with Richard, sauntering along the brightly-lit alley. Their apartment was not far away from where Miranda and Robert were living, only about ten minutes by walk. She drew a deep, calming breath. Something about their visit today was still bothering her...

"Miranda was acting strangely today, don't you think?" she said, thinking.

"Perhaps she was just stressed," Richard offered with a shrug. Obviously he had noticed, too.

"No, it was something else. I'm not sure but I think it had to do with Jules," she replied vaguely, trying to pin down that uneasy feeling she had.

When Richard lowered his tempo, Amsha turned to face him, her lips pressed into a tight line. "Have you notice how withdrawn Jules was?" She still wasn't sure if she wasn't just imagining things, but the more she thought about it the odder it stroke her.

"But Miranda told us that he wasn't feeling well. It's only normal if he's not running around, laughing and playing as if everything was fine."

"But that's just it, Richard. Have you ever seen Jules running around, laughing and playing like other children? Have you ever seen him doing things other children at his age would do?" she gave back more sharply than she had intended. She instantly regretted her harsh tone. "He's so shy and – he never really talks to others. I mean..." she hesitated, unable to bring her thoughts into the right words. Finally she sighed, "...I don't know what I mean."

"Jules is just not like other children. We both know that," Richard stalled.

"But it's more than that. Today he seemed so small and fragile. Like he was afraid of something. Did you see Miranda's face when I helped Jules with the cake?"

Richard shook his head in resignation. "Perhaps she just felt embarrassed. He's almost seven, after all. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't need someone to help him. Perhaps she just didn't want us to see him like this."

"But he's her son!" Amsha protested.

Gently, Richard took her by the arm, urging her to walk with him. "It's not that her reaction is so out of place. Just imagine Jules were our own son. How would you feel if our only child was so completely different from everything we had hoped him to be? I'm not defending Miranda. All I want to say is that perhaps today just wasn't a good day. It all went wrong right from the beginning. But there's no need to worry. It'll pass, I'm sure of it. Tomorrow will be another day."

Amsha's face drew into a faint grimace. "Let's go back, Richard."

"What?" Richard stared at her in disbelief.

"I just want to see Jules one more time, that's all. Just to make sure everything is okay."

"But Amsha, the boy is fine. Stop worrying. Even if what Miranda told us is true and he really isn't feeling well, there's no reason to worry. Let's get back home. We'll see them tomorrow, anyway."

She threw a quick glance back into the direction they had come from. Something in her drew her back. She couldn't explain this special feeling that kept nagging at the corner of her mind. No matter what Richard told her, she wouldn't stop worrying.

"It's late, Amsha. Let's go home." He gently wrapped his arm around her.

Amsha just nodded. She couldn't but hope that Richard was right.

* * *

"I'll go back."

Without another word, Amsha suddenly stood, grabbing her jacket and heading for the door. Not even half an hour later, she was still nervous, too anxious to just sit down and enjoy the evening. Even before she had reached the door, Richard was already coming after her.

"Amsha, wait, what are you up to?"

She couldn't explain it to him. She just had this feeling, and it was growing stronger. It was like a sixth sense. How could she explain this indefinite feeling to Richard? She didn't understand it herself. The only thing she knew was that something was not right. That Jules might need her help. She knew it with some kind of motherly instinct, even though Jules was not her own son.

When she stepped out into the cool and humid air, she felt a faint drizzle on her face. It had started raining again...

"Wait, I'll come with you," Richard called after her, though Amsha was already on her way. It didn't take him long to catch up with her.

"Amsha, Jules is okay, stop worrying!"

But she just couldn't. She wouldn't allow herself to stop worrying until she knew for certain that everything was alright.

After only a few minutes they reached Robert and Miranda's house. The rain had increased, though it was about the last thing she cared about in that moment. Hurrying up the stairs to the door, she quickly activated the door chime. Only after she rang it four more times, the door was finally opened. Pushing against it, she entered the staircase.

"And what now? What will you tell them? That you're here because of Jules? Because you were worried?" Richard whispered behind her as they climbed the stairs.

"Don't worry. I'll think of something," she retorted sharply, just to stop abruptly when she saw Robert and Miranda appear in the door frame of their apartment on the second landing.

"Amsha? Richard?" Miranda said in utter bewilderment. Her voice sounded slurred and unclear as if she had cried. She looked terrible. Her face was as pale as milk and her eyes were a faint red. She wasn't able to hide the mixture of suspicion and dismay on her face, when her eyes darted anxiously from Amsha to Richard, unsure how to react to their sudden visit.

"How can I help you? Did you forget something?" Robert offered swiftly, stepping forward and bringing himself between them and Miranda, thus blocking his wife completely from view.

"We..." Richard started, anxious to find a reasonable excuse.

"...are here to see Jules," Amsha replied curtly.

She could see how Robert's face drew into a dark grimace, as if he was mulling over his next words. Miranda's hand reached for her husband's arm.

"I'm afraid, he's...already asleep. It's been quite a day for him," Robert said nonchalantly with a forced smile.

"Please, I just want to see him," Amsha said firmly, but Robert just shook his head.

"I'm sorry, but I think it best to let him sleep. Thank you for your concern but it's really nothing to worry about," he quickly said with upraised hands. "He's fine. Nothing a little sleep won't cure."

It was the way he was blocking the door, the way he was forcing that smile on his lips while his gray eyes stayed watchful and alert, that told her that her bad feeling had proved to be true. She didn't need to see Miranda's anxious face, or hear her shaky voice, to know that something was badly wrong. And Robert – He suddenly radiated so much authority. She stared at him as if she saw him for the first time.

"I'm serious, Robert. I want to see Jules," she finally said with a vigor that surprised herself.

Robert still blocked their way, not moving an inch to allow them into the apartment. "And I said, that it is not possible." His voice grew impatient, his composure slipping. "I'm sorry but I think we should call it a night."

"Let us through, Robert, or I'll call security," now also Richard put in, having sensed that the situation was more and more running out of control.

The other man's face contorted into an angry grimace. "If anything, it's I who will call security if you don't leave now! I won't tell you twice!"

For a short moment, both men just stared at each other, before Richard stepped decidedly forward. When Robert grabbed his arm to prevent him from coming any nearer, Amsha feared for a moment that both of them would start a fight. She hesitated only a split of a second before she used the chance to shove herself past both of them, only absently noticing Miranda's panic-stricken look when she realized what Amsha was about to do.

"Amsha!" Miranda's voice cracked, making Robert whirl around. "No!" she shouted, grabbing blindly for the other woman's arm to hold her back. Though in vain.

"That's trespassing!" Robert shouted in fury. "I'll call security!" Already about to start after her, he was suddenly held back by Richard, who was trying to hold the older man in check, ducking a blow that would have landed right in his face, had Richard not brought his face out of reach in time.

At the same time, Amsha shook off her friend's hand, heading straight for the children's room.

"No, wait! You can't...!" she heard Miranda half crying.

Pushing the handle and entering the room, she felt her heart stop dead in her chest.

Jules was lying limply on the blue bed sheets. His eyes were closed, and he didn't move. She instantly noticed the dark bruises on his too pale skin, the caked and half-dried blood under his nose. Slumped on the bed like a lifeless and broken puppet, she couldn't even tell if he was still breathing. It was in this instant that she feared the worst.

Without another thought she hurried toward the bed, sinking down on her knees and running a shaky hand over the boy's wet forehead. His dark disheveled hair was framing a face as white as porcelain, his tear-smeared cheeks a dark purple were the swelling had already begun. He didn't react to her touch. He was so cold, so startling cold to the touch. When she felt for his weak pulse, noticing with shock the other dark bruises that were covering his arms, she felt her stomach turn.

"Jules! Hang on, you hear me!" she whispered desperately, her mind racing. Her hand was squeezing the boy's when she finally spun around.

"Richard!" she half yelled, completely unaware of the other young woman, standing crying at the door. "We need a doctor! _Now_!"


	8. Chapter 16

**- Chapter 16 - **

Captain Benjamin Sisko folded both hands in front of himself, leaning intently forward.

"What happened then?"

Amsha Bashir had suddenly paused and directed her gaze absently out of the viewport. Her lips were pressed into a tight line, when she visibly gathered herself. It must have been for the first time in many years that she was talking so openly now about what had happened that special night in her past. Richard gently placed a reassuring hand on her arm, squeezing it affectionately. When he was sure that his wife was okay, he turned back to Sisko.

"We... immediately sent for a medical emergency team. They arrived only a few minutes later, taking the boy with them to the nearest hospital while a security officer took care of Miranda and Robert. It all happened so fast. The next thing we knew, we were standing in the emergency ward, watching them sent him into surgery. One of the nurses was taking us aside and telling us that apart from the visible injuries to his body and face, he was above all suffering from intracranial bleeding. That it must have come from a concussion to the head and that they needed to perform an emergency operation before it was too late. We spent the whole night in the emergency ward while the doctors were trying to save his life. In the end, they were able to stop the bleeding and stabilize his condition..." Richard said with a profound sadness in his voice.

Dax cast him an anxious look. "But...?" she tried, having gotten the underlying tone in the older Bashir's voice that was not at all boding well.

Richard let out a heavy sigh. "The bleeding had caused severe damage to vital brain structures and had injured sensitive brain tissue. The doctors were able to stabilize his condition but the prognosis was devastating: although his body would heal, his mind would never fully recover from the injury it had suffered that night. To make things worse, Jules had already slipped into a coma – and even though no one wanted to admit it, the chance of the boy ever waking up from it again was near to zero..."

Sisko took a deep breath, trying to digest the flood of information that had come rolling over him so suddenly during the last hour. He cast Dax a concerned look, before he directed his attention back to the older Bashir. "And Evans was the one who was responsible for it all...," he finally concluded grimly, mulling the words over in his mind while he spoke. He had wanted some answers, and finally he had gotten them. Though after all he had just learned, he was anything but sure how to handle the news.

"If we had just noticed that something was wrong earlier," Amsha suddenly spoke up, her grip around the edge of the chair tightening. "If I had just been more sensitive. I should have realized that something was wrong with Miranda. Not only on that day. I was her friend, and I never suspected anything. And Jules..." She broke off and sadly shook her head. If she could just turn back time. Even after all these years, she hadn't forgiven herself.

"Do you know how long it had gone on?" Sisko asked reluctantly with a dark expression that perfectly matched the gloomy atmosphere that was now filling his office.

Richard shook his head. "No one was ever able to say for sure. Robert and Miranda insisted that the incident had been an accident – and Jules was in no condition to tell anyone what had really happened between the three of them. Even though Robert had no other choice than to admit to the beating, he insisted on never having wanted to seriously harm Jules. He conceded that he had wanted to give the boy a lesson, and that he had wanted to teach him some manners. But Robert, as well as Miranda, denied that they had been neglecting or mistreating their son in any way. However, if you ask me, the situation must have gone on for quite some time. I don't know what exactly happened on that day, or what Jules could have done to provoke such punishment from Robert, but no matter how you think about it, what happened that night was not something that happened out of the blue. I don't think it had been the first time that Robert lost control..."

Sisko drew in a deep breath. _Of course not... _Love didn't just turn into indifference, or even frustration, over night. It must have been a slow process, which finally led to the drama that had unfolded that fateful night. As a parent, it was hard for Sisko to imagine that the love for his son could ever turn into the desire to do him any harm. When he thought about what Julian must have gone through in his young years, he felt unspeakably sorry.

"But...," the young Trill next to him suddenly spoke up, pulling Sisko out of his thoughts. "...how is it possible that Julian is standing here today? If what you said is true, how is it possible that he's leading a normal life now?" She gave the elder Bashir a honestly puzzled look.

Richard nodded as if he had expected her question. Still holding Amsha's hand in his, he sighed. "The incident that night was the real reason for Jules' genetic enhancement," he slowly began, as if something within him was still holding him back from uncovering a truth he had thought he had buried forever more than 25 years ago. "Jules was lying in a coma with as good as no chance of ever regaining consciousness again. And even if – against all odds – he did, it was unclear if he would ever recover far enough to lead a more or less normal life. The doctors weren't able to help him, not even with their medical standards at that time."

Richard's gaze wandered over to the viewport, when his mind traveled back to another time and place. "I still remember standing at his bedside after they brought him back from surgery. I was looking down at that small boy, with the too large bandages wrapped around his head. He was so small and fragile that he literally seemed to drown in the white bedcover they had tugged around his sleeping body. I felt so helpless at that moment. There was nothing I could do but stay at his side, watching him sleep, at the same time knowing that he might never wake up again." Richard shook his head, blinking away the moisture in his eyes that had begun to form at the memory. "It was in the blurry days that followed that night that I remembered something I had read a long time before. A half serious, half scandalous report dealing with the topic of artificial DNA resequencing." Richard paused for a moment to let his words sink in. Then he directed his gaze back at Sisko and Dax. "At first it was only a vague idea, something that sounded too disconcerting to take it really into consideration. Above all, it was illegal, so it was plainly out of the question. But with every day that came and went, with every day Jules was lying there in that white hospital room without so much as a sign of life, the idea became stronger until I started to realized that it might be his only chance..."

When he noticed Sisko's questioning gaze, he continued: "DNA resequencing is a way to artificially manipulate a person's innate DNA structure in order to improve the person's physical constitution as well as sensomotoric and, above all, mental abilities. It's about creating new neural pathways and synapses that make it possible to process information to and from the brain more efficiently and in a much shorter time. So if a normal person's brain can develop additional neural pathways, why shouldn't it also be possible to create new neural pathways as a substitute for damaged ones?" Richard Bashir opened his arms wide, as if to underline his words with the gesture.

Sisko nodded, stroking his chin with one hand. "I think I get the point."

Richard nodded. "There was only one, essential problem: There was no way to really _repair_ the neural damage Jules' brain had suffered. It was all about creating new ways to enable his brain to function again. But there was no way to save the knowledge, or all the experiences and memories he had acquired up to that point. In the course of the DNA resequencing, the damaged neural pathways were going to be completely replaced by new ones, and every mental link to his former life would be erased from his mind and memory. At that time, we talked a lot with the doctors and experts involved. There was no way around it. It was like a price Jules had to pay for the chance of a new life," Richard sighed. "The choice wasn't an easy one, Captain. No matter what decision we made, we wouldn't be able to save the child he had been. No matter what we did, Jules Evans was going to die in that hospital..."

"And Evans?" Dax asked slightly unsure, folding her hands in her lap.

Amsha shook her head. "He never came to check on his son. Not even once," she said in a flat voice. "The last time we saw him was when he and Miranda were asked to accompany security to give a detailed statement about what had happened. In the days and weeks that were to follow that night, there was no one to look after Jules but the doctors and nurses of the Northport Main Hospital..."

Sisko let out a slow breath, trying to decide if he could believe what the Bashirs were so suddenly confiding in him. But on the other side, he could see absolutely no reason for them to make such a horrible story up. "It's hard to believe that the Robert Evans you just told me of should be the same Captain Evans who's currently with us on the station," he hesitantly began, giving voice to his doubts. "If you mind my saying, they're like two different persons. I'm not sure if the Captain Evans I got to know one week ago would even be able to act in such a way. Why is there nothing about the incident in his record?"

Richard snorted, as if the answer was clear. "That is the price _we _had to pay for Jules' genetic enhancement."

"A cover-up?" Dax frowned, perplexed.

When neither Amsha nor Richard replied, Sisko leaned forward. "Did you inform Starfleet about the incident?"

Richard's face drew into a faint grimace of indignation. "Of course I did, Captain Sisko. Robert nearly killed Jules. No one who saw the boy at that time would have hesitated to report the incident to Starfleet. It was not a question of friendship. Even before we were able to file an official report, the hospital staff had already sent a message to Starfleet Headquarters."

"And they did... nothing?" Sisko asked doubtfully. As a commissioned Starfleet officer himself, it was hard for him to believe Richard's words.

The older Bashir just snorted under his breath. "What did you expect? For Starfleet, Robert was nothing short of a hero. The famous Captain Evans from the Telarian Wars, a man with such a potential that no one wanted to risk losing him, no matter what. He was a legend – and that was the only way to treat him. For Evans applied other laws – and Starfleet was the authority who made them."

"You mean, Captain Evans was never held responsible for what happened on that day?" Dax asked disbelievingly.

"I don't know what Starfleet did or what happened to Robert and Miranda. I only know that after that night, Jules has never again seen neither Miranda nor Robert. We were told that Robert would be held accountable for his deed but that it was up to Starfleet alone to decide on how to proceed in his case. Jules was of no real importance to Starfleet. He was just a boy. Captain Evans was everything. If we hadn't taken action, they would have left him in that hospital until sooner or later he would have died for everyone's sake..." Richard's words came hard and accusing.

"But we just weren't able to leave Jules in that hospital. He was a child, after all. And he was innocent," Amsha straightened in her seat. "So we made a decision."

"You brought him to Adigeon Prime," Sisko stated matter-of-factly, recalling the conversation they had led about one year ago – even though this here seemed like a completely new version of their original story.

"It was nothing more than clutching at a straw. The treatment of the DNA resequencing Jules underwent had not yet been fully tested at that time. Even though it was still categorized as experimental, it was the only chance we had. There was nothing to lose, anyway. The doctors on Atholes III were unable to help him – but given that the treatment was successful, Jules would be able to lead a normal life again."

Amsha let her gaze drop to the floor. "Starfleet offered us a compromise: they'd agree to the illegal treatment if – at the same time – we would refrain from making the incident public. In the end, it was Starfleet who brought us to Adigeon Prime and organized everything. Upon our request, we were even allowed to take care of Jules. They provided us with all necessary documents to never allow a doubt that Jules was our own son."

"What kind of documents?" Sisko wanted to know.

Amsha looked up at his words, a crooked, humorless smile on her face. "Birth certificate, school documents, school reports... everything to pretend that Jules had had a normal childhood."

"What happened to Jules Evans? What became of the boy who was supposed to be lying in the hospital on Atholes III. How did they explain his disappearance? There had to be some documentation about the case," the Captain's brow furrowed.

Richard shrugged. "After all I know, they erased all data that could hint at a link between Robert and Jules Evans. I'm not sure how thorough it was done, but I doubt that you will find anything about a Jules Evans in any database today. As far as I know, they rewrote Robert and Miranda's records – and erased any information about Jules or even the fact that they had a child together. I don't know how or to what extend they did it. But fact is, that all official records were altered. Robert Evans never had a son. And that is what you will read if you call up his profile now."

"But what about Julian's childhood memories?" Dax shook her head. "He was blaming you for the genetic enhancements. And at least to me it seemed as if he was very well able to remember what his life before the enhancements had been like..."

Richard shook his head, dismissing her doubts. "The sad truth is, that none of his memories of that time are real," he sighed, massaging the back of his nose, as if he felt reluctant to admit to what extend Julian's life had been based on a lie. "Believe, me Commander Dax, it wasn't easy for us to give him back all those lost years, but we tried our best."

Sisko frowned. "What do you mean?"

Richard looked him directly into the face. "Tell me, Captain Sisko, how many memories do you have of the time when you were six? How many of the time when you were even five? I mean, how many real memories. How many memories, where you're not watching yourself from some third person's perspective, or how many memories that don't happen to match any existing holo recording of that time?"

When neither Sisko nor Dax responded, Richard went on: "Did you know that most adults are not able to remember anything of their life when they were younger than three or four? It's only then that the basic memorization process for long-term memories begins. I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't have more than a handful of memories of that time. And even those memories must be blurred and sketchy, nothing more than the memory of a vague feeling, or an image. Can you tell for certain that you know what age those memories are of? Can you really tell them apart, or tell for certain that this memory happened before that? There's no time date imprinted on your memories. If you think about events of your past now, you normally won't be able to say when exactly something out of your memory happened – or if what you're remembering really did happen the way you remember it now. And that's the same for Jules. Most of the recollection he has of his childhood is from a time after the enhancements. Some he has out of holo records, some out of pictures. Some memory is from what we were telling him when he found out about his genetic enhancements when he was fifteen. Believe me, Captain Sisko, giving him back the lost seven years wasn't easy. But whatever Jules memory of that time is, it's nothing more than something that was artificially created afterward."

"We took over the responsibility for Jules, and at the same time we took over the responsibility for our own actions. We knew that one day, Jules might find out about the genetic enhancements. And that sooner or later there would come a time when we had to justify our decision without being able to tell the real truth behind it. It was all part of the agreement we reached at that time. By adopting Jules, we took over all responsibility for what would happen in the future. And when Jules' genetic enhancements were revealed last year, it resulted in my going to prison for a cause that was – originally seen – not in the least morally reprehensible. I did it to uphold the new truth we had created, and to save our family..." Richard suddenly broke off, running a hand over his tired eyes. It had cost him a visible effort to put everything that had happened into words.

Sisko remained silent for a moment. But finally, it fell all into place. And so many things more. So this had been the real reason behind Admiral Bennett's quick action last year. _Two years at a minimum-security penal colony in New Zealand... _Even back at that time it had struck him as odd that Starfleet had chosen a rather mild punishment and that they hadn't pushed the issue further. Genetic engineering was still illegal, after all. Admiral Bennett had spoken the sentence – and Richard Bashir had accepted. When he thought about it now, it had been like a bad theater piece.

"So you gave your promise to never again lose a word about what had happened in the past. And you raised your son in the belief that the genetic enhancement was alone your idea," Sisko concluded finally, watching them with honest puzzlement "And your son never suspected anything? You were never tempted to tell him the truth?"

Amsha shook her head. "We would have risked losing him and everything we had built up to that point."

Richard raised one brow. "Believe me, Captain. The past years have not always been easy." He hesitated a short moment, as if he had to bring himself to admit it. "We had our differences. And I wish I had rather not said some things that I did. I wish things between us had gone better. But Jules still is our son." He pressed his lips into a tight line. "And what is now happening to him, is something that no one was ever prepared for. I don't know why – or how it is even possible. From a medical standpoint it should be impossible. His memory of that time should be gone. He just shouldn't be able to remember anything of the time he had spent with Robert and Miranda. We... " He shook his head. "To be honest, we don't know what to do. And we didn't want to turn to anybody else. You're his commanding officer. And we trust you." Richard said, locking his eyes with Sisko's.

Sisko ran one hand over his chin, thinking. He was more than worried about what unexpected turn the event had suddenly taken. In many ways. "I'm glad you offered to tell us the truth. And I promise that I will do my best to help your son. At least we now know what we're dealing with. I will consult Dr. Frejir in this matter. He has done a rather good job so far and I'm sure he will find a way to help Julian before his condition is getting any worse."

Dax nodded. "I'll have a talk with Counselor Tel Nori as well," she offered.

"Thank you, Dax. The questions that remains is: What are we going to do with Captain Evans?" Turning to Bashir's parents, Sisko added in an afterthought: "You said that Robert seems to be aware that Julian is his son. Did he show any strange reaction when you tried to talk to him?"

Richard thought about it for a moment. "He reacted in a rather angry way. He didn't want to hear anything about Jules' condition and threatened to call security if we didn't leave his quarters. But other than that, there was nothing suspicious about his behavior. It guess it's only natural. He thought that he had left everything behind himself more than 25 years ago. And now he has to learn that his past is not as buried as he had thought. It must have come as quite a shock."

"I'll have a word with Captain Evans. As soon as possible," Sisko said grimly.

"What are you up to, Benjamin?" Dax shot him a concerned look.

Sisko's gaze remained hard, when he finally turned toward her. The anger was clearly written all over his face. "I want to know why Evans is still on duty after all what happened, and why there is nothing about the incident in his record. And when I know it, I'm going to put the record straight."

Dax nodded reluctantly, feeling rather disturbed by where this all was heading. Julian's truth was not the only one that was threatening to fall into pieces. First Section 31, now Evans. How many more things were there still to uncover if they just kept digging deep enough? Starfleet was a large organization... How many more things were there, no outsider would ever get to know? How many more dark secrets, that were slowly but surely contributing to the decay of their moral believes and ideals?

"Major Kira to Captain Sisko," the sudden voice over intercom interrupted their conversation.

Sisko looked up, casting a swift side glance to the closed doors of his office behind which the bustling activity in OPS was visible. "Sisko here, go ahead, Major."

The Bajoran's voice sounded alarmed. "I'm sorry to disturb you Sir, but I found something, you'd better have a look at. I think there's something going on..."

"Acknowledged. I'm on my way. Sisko out."

Even before he was able to dredge himself up and address the Bashirs, some kind of distant rumbling translated through the floor of his office, until a sudden and heavy commotion threw them all off their feet.

* * *

"Status Report!"

Seeing the captain hurrying down the few steps from his office into OPS, Kira acknowledged him with a short nod, before she directed her attention back at her console, her fingers dancing swiftly over its blinking display.

"Three Cardassian warships and five strike ships of the Dominion have just decloaked about three kilometers away from the station. The biggest of the eight ships has just opened fire on DS9," she reported. "The rest of the ships are powering up their weapons. At least another dozen Cardassian and Jem'Hadar ships are crossing the border to the Bajoran space while we're speaking."

"Raise shields," Sisko bellowed, half sure that someone had already been smart enough to do just that. "Try to hail them!"

The major shook her head. "They're not responding. The Cardassian warship is coming in for another attack!"

"Establish a commlink to Captain Wieland!" A new rumbling translated through OPS as if some giant had knocked his fist on the space station, making her falter under the heavy impact like a boat on the waves of the open sea. Captain Sisko could reach out in time for the railing not to be thrown off his feet again, cursing under his breath.

"Captain Wieland is already hailing us, Sir. I'll put him through on the main screen!"

Only a few seconds after Kira's words had been carried away by the thunder of another impact, the black image of space was replaced by the pale and rather ill-looking face of the _Hellas'_ commanding officer.

"Captain Sisko, the attack comes too early. We're not ready yet. The _Victoria_ and _Qalmoh_ are on their way but they won't be able to make it to the station in time. The _Hellas_ will stand at your side but I'm not sure how long we'll be able to hold up against them – to say nothing of the flood of other enemy ships that are already on their way to the station!"

"Dax, send a priority one distress signal to Starfleet. We're needing reinforcements – and were needing them _now_!"

Dax absently bit her lower lip and nodded. "Yes, Sir!"

Sisko ran one hand over his bald head, trying to get an overview over the situation. He was still holding on to the railing to be prepared for another impact – that followed a split of a second later. "What is the status of our shields, Chief?"

The answer came right away. "At 80 percent. If the Cardassians keep up this pace we'll lose main power to the shields in less than 10 minutes. I'm betting that this is exactly what they're aiming at. They're concentrating their fire on our shield emitters. Obviously they don't want to destroy the station, they just want us to lose main power to bring down our shields..."

"Activate all weapons. Redirect auxiliary power into the shields. Fire at my command," Sisko ordered.

"Aye, Sir."

Sisko whirled round to Major Kira. "Major, tell Commander Worf to get ready with the _Defiant!_"

"Aye, Sir," the young Bajoran shouted over the din in OPS, punching in commands into her own console.

"Weapons ready, Sir."

"Target their warp nacelles. If we can score a direct hit, it'll make them lose their main power. Try to get as many as you can and don't waste our energy on lost causes. We don't need to destroy them, we just need to make them lose control over their ships long enough for Starfleet to pick them up later. Fire!"

A crude lightning was filling OPS when the screen switched back to space, showing the phaser beam impacting on the nearest Cardassian strike ship. Only a second later, OPS was shaking again, the view screen going blank for a short second when the visual data stream failed to transmit the energy burst that had just occurred outside the station.

"Their shields are holding, Sir. No damage to the ship's hull," O'Brien shouted from his position, before a sparkling blue rain burst out of the console next to him and made him thrust up his arms in protection. He staggered back, cursing.

"Try again, Chief! Major, signal to Captain Wieland that the first of the Cardassian ships has top priority and send a broadband distress signal to every ship out there. We need every help we can get."

"Yes, Sir," Kira didn't even look his way when her fingers continued their wild dance over the console's display.

Dax' excited voice followed only a moment later. "The _Hellas_ has taken a direct hit. She's holding up so far."

"Damn!" Sisko punched the console in front of him. Everything happened too fast...

"Shields down to 70 percent, Sir," the chief called out. "I'm going to reroute power of the life support of the lower decks into the field generators. That will get us a few minutes."

"How long until the shields are going to collapse?"

O'Brien studied the readouts, only reluctantly lifting his gaze. "No more than eight minutes."

"Sir, Commander Worf is ready and in position," Ensign Lopez shot Sisko a questioning gaze, though the captain had already anticipated her words.

"Tell him to concentrate fire on the first Cardassian ship."

"DS9 to Captain Wieland. Fire on my command."

When the young ensign nodded that Worf had acknowledged the orders, Sisko gave the command. Three ugly red streaks of light burned their way through space, impacting in a bundle right on the nose of the first Cardassian strike ships. The ship's force field flickered under the impact, before the streak went right through it and slammed into the ship's hull. The rain of sparks that followed was blinding. One of the port nacelles was simply knocked away by the sheer force of it, before the colossus of steel and metal went to glory in one big explosion. Sisko shielded his eyes against the sudden brightness. The ship had been closest to the station.

"New targeting. Same maneuver again. Fire."

"Captain, they've scored a direct hit at our shield emitters. Shields of the docking ring have dropped down to 30 percent," O'Brien reported.

"Evacuate the docking ring! Send the people to the habitat ring and reroute power to stabilize our shields there."

Another explosion made them focus their attention back on the main screen, when another Dominion ship broke apart and exploded in a sparkling burst of energy.

"If we give up the docking ring, they'll be able to get onto the station!" Kira shot him a look that was hovering somewhere between disbelief and pain. She knew as well as Sisko that once the Jem'Hadar were on board the station it would be like a death sentence for DS9.

"We don't have another choice, Major. Either we give up the docking ring or the station will fall apart. Chief, what's the status of their ships?"

"The Cardassian warships have sustained light damage. But the Dominion ships are still fully functional."

"Captain Wieland is hailing us again, Sir."

"On screen."

Seconds later the distressed face of the _Hellas_' captain appeared. Judging from the heavy smoke in the background, the _Hellas_ was in no better condition than DS9.

"Bad news, Captain Sisko. Our long range sensors have just picked up additional ships of the Dominion heading directly toward DS9. Even with the _Victoria_ and the _Qalmoh, _we won't stand a chance against such an armada. The _Victoria_'s estimated time of arrival is in 30 minutes at full warp."

Sisko's face darkened. "That are 30 minutes we don't have."

"Captain, shields of outer pylon 3 have just failed!" Dax exclaimed. "Two of the Dominion ships have lowered their shields as well."

"Sensors are picking up transporter activity on one of those ships," Kira looked up in shock. "The Jem'Hadar have just beamed aboard the station!"

Sisko's reaction came instantaneously.

"Red alert!"


	9. Chapter 17

**- Chapter 17 -**

The commotion occurred so suddenly and unexpectedly that Captain Robert Evans was all at once knocked off his feet and slammed into the table to his left. It was pure instinct that made him blindly grab for the back of the chair to prevent himself from being sent sprawling backwards onto the floor. Pulling himself back to his feet, he somehow managed to regain his balance, though the ill-boding vibration that was still translating in tiny ripples through the station was enough to ring every alarm bell in his dizzy mind. Something was dreadfully wrong. Dazed, he looked about to determine the source of the sudden commotion, his mind trying to find an explanation for what had just happened.

When his gaze darted over to the viewport and he saw the crude lightning illuminating the sky in the distance, he felt a cold chill of apprehension pierce through him. _An attack..._ _Deep Space Nine must be under attack, _his mind tried to make sense of the hell that had so suddenly broken loose around them.

So their worst fear must have come true. The Cardassian and Dominion ships that had been patrolling the Cardassian border must have somehow invaded the Bajoran sector to launch an attack on Deep Space Nine. _Damn!_ It all came too early. They weren't ready yet. Instinctively, he grabbed the edge of the table for support when another impact shook the walls around him, making his stomach lurch at the though of what damage the enemy weaponry landing on the station's hull must be leaving behind in their wake.

Staggering nearer to the viewport, he craned his neck and tried to get a better overview over what was going on outside the station. In the distance, he could see the distinctive violet of several Jem'Hadar ships looming like an omen of death against the dark sky.

His mind was racing.

To the best of his recollection, the reinforcements from Starfleet weren't expected to arrive but in about one more hour. He didn't need his experience as a strategist to know that without additional help Deep Space Nine wouldn't last long in this battle. Even though the station was well equipped with a large defense system, she wouldn't stand the ghost of a chance to take on such an armada. He couldn't even be sure how many more ships were out there that were plainly out of his view. From his vantage point he counted at least five heavy armored Dominion strike ships and – judging from the color of their weaponry – the number of the Cardassian war ships at their side must be no less. No matter how he thought about it, they were in trouble. And in very big one at that.

He needed to get to OPS. As quickly as possible. See how bad the situation really was...

Suppressing a blunt curse, he finally willed himself to sever his gaze from the drama that was unfolding only a stone's throw away from the station. Whirling round to head for OPS, he suddenly froze in mid-stride when his gaze fell upon the figure cowering in a heap on the floor in the middle of the room.

Julian Bashir had sunken down to the floor like a broken puppet, curling up tightly with his hands thrown protectively over his head. His shoulders were shaking as badly as the rest of the room, while stifled, fearful sobs would escape his lips every now and then between irregular gasps for breath. The fire, that had until moments ago been burning so vividly in his angry eyes, had completely evaporated, leaving behind a young man now utterly terrified of what was going to happen to him. He seemed completely oblivious to what was going on around them, too drowned in his own misery to take anything of his surroundings in any longer.

At the pitiful, miserable sight of the station's former chief medical officer, Evans felt his anger well up again. And more. With it came a rage, so profound and consuming, that for a moment he was completely overwhelmed by it. Looking down at Julian's weeping shape, Evan's heart tightened into a painful knot of disgust until he had to force himself to let out the breath he hadn't been aware he had been holding. His body tensed, his hands drawing into angry fists. And with a startling, bitter clarity he suddenly realized that there was not a spark of sympathy left for the broken young man in front of him...

Because it was about to happen again. All the things he had built up in his life. Everything he had been living for. He was about to lose it again. After all these years he had thought he had regained control over his life, it was going to be taken away from him again. What did it matter if the station made it safely out of the attack or not. His life was over... one way or the other.

When another impact rocked the station, his gaze wandered slowly back to the viewport. For a long moment, his gaze remained fixed on the horrible battle that was unfolding out in space. The station was under attack. Judging from the enemy's maneuver, how they seemed to concentrate their fire on only a few distinctive parts of DS9, it was evident that it was not their aim to really destroy the station. _Whoever controls DS9, controls the wormhole, _he thought bitterly. DS9 wouldn't be able to fend them off forever. Sooner or later the Jem'Hadar or Cardassians would manage to inflict a deep enough wound on the station to send in their troops to take over the station from within. And if this happened, a fight for life and death would break loose. There was a good chance that they didn't make it out of this battle alive...

For another long second, his gaze lingered on the stars that kept streaking by in their steady rhythm. Then his hand almost absently reached up to the left side of his chest. With a faint click, his combadge came loose.

He placed it almost gently on the table, before he squared his shoulders and strode decisively across the room, coming to a halt in front of the young man. Looking with contempt down at the sobbing figure at his feet, his jaw tightened painfully.

For an awkward moment, he just stood there, motionless, while the sound of phaser fire drifted in from the distance. Then he bent down and seized the young man by his arm, hauling him roughly up from the floor. Torn from his stupor, Julian startled, a look of sheer terror flickering across his ashen, tear-smeared face. Oddly enough he offered not a spark of resistance, though, when he was so suddenly forced to his feet. When their eyes met, Evans felt a cold chill pierce through him at the emptiness he saw in Julian's gaze. And it was in this moment that he knew that Richard had been right. He could see it clearly now. Whatever was up to the young man, or whatever demons he was battling inside, he had again slipped back into his own word, his mind too far gone to react to anything that was happening around him now.

Evans bit back an ironic snort. It would just make things easier. It was like a unique chance fate had granted him, he would be damned if he wasted it. Not this time.

Pulling Julian decisively with him toward the door, he drew his weapon, just in case the young man should decide to put up a fight in the eleventh hour.

"You'll come with me, Doctor," he commanded, before he shoved him out into the trembling corridor.

* * *

_Fear. A bone-deep, paralyzing fear that crept into every remotest corner of his self, clawing at him until his body felt numb with dread. _

_His heart was hammering so painfully in his chest as if it was going to burst, the effect leaving him lightheaded and dizzy. His thoughts were a chaos without beginning or end, his mind refusing to work properly, like an engine that had collapsed under too much pressure. His breaths came too fast and too shallow, his body tingling with the sensation of too much adrenaline being pumped through his veins. His knees felt like jellyfish, and threatened to fold just beneath his body with every unsteady step he was forced further through the murky corridor. Through the haze in his mind, he heard some distant, still rational part of his mind telling him that he must be in shock. But he was too far at the end of his limits to make any use of this incongruous piece of information._

_Because he knew he wouldn't be able to stop him. _

_Every instinct in him was screaming at him to cry for help. To struggle free of his iron grip and run for his life. To flail out and fight with every shred of strength he had left. To find someone who would protect him. Someone to rescue him out of this never-ending nightmare. But his throat was too thick with emotions to bring out a single word, his body too exhausted and numb to obey his commands. Why was no one coming for his help? Why was no one stopping him?_

_Trying to choke back the terrified sob that was about to work its way up his throat, he struggled hard not to draw his attention for he knew that he would just make things worse. He mustn't cry. It would only further his anger. The mere thought of what he was going to do to him made a cold horror course through him and helpless tears shoot back into his sore eyes. He bit down hard on his lip to keep them from spilling over._

_Driven forward by a force beyond his control, he just stumbled on through the desolate corridor. Mechanically. Trying not to think about what would be waiting for him at the end of where they were heading. Trying not to think back at his angry, punishing gaze. At the cold refusal in his disapproving eyes. _

_Break down._

_He wanted to break down, to make himself as small as possible and just vanish from this world. If he just left him alone. He would go wherever he wanted him to go. He would do whatever he wanted him to do. If he just didn't hurt him. If he just didn't hurt him..._

* * *

"...please proceed immediately to the habitat ring. I repeat: We're evacuating the docking ring, please proceed immediately in the direction of the habitat ring. We'll be sealing off the access ways in a few minutes."

Even before another rumbling shook the floor, Evans hit the door switch to the cargo bay, completely ignoring the computer's urging voice that insisted that all remaining personnel from the docking areas leave right away to take shelter in the safer areas of the habitat ring. So the situation must be worse than he had thought. Sealing off the outer ring of DS9 meant nothing less than Sisko was about to establish a firewall to prevent the enemy forces from fighting their way into the station once they managed to cut their way through the station's defense system. It was only a matter of time until the first scaly alien would materialize in these gray corridors, hunting down every unlucky soul that happened to cross its way.

When the door to the cargo bay wouldn't move, Evans hit the door switch again, cursing. With a quick look up and down the corridor he made sure that there was no other person around to stumble over them in the course of the evacuation. Then he took off the casing for manual override on one side of the heavy door and activated the opening mechanism. With a faint hiss, the bulkhead finally parted, allowing them into the darkness beyond.

When he ordered the lights to be raised, he noticed with relief that the bay was empty apart from a few crates and supply goods that had been stored there. He couldn't have been luckier. With a last reassuring side glance to both sides, he pulled Julian with him through the door. The young man stumbled, losing his balance for a moment, though Evans was already next to him, seizing his arm again to steer him toward the rear part of the cargo bay. Their footsteps echoed eerily back from the walls around them when Evans made their way across the desolate cargo bay, heading straight toward the corner at the far end. A few crates had been stacked against the wall there, their label indicating them as technical components and wiring. A short ladder next to them was leading up to the catwalk that was running around the the bay two and a half meters above the ground, a small access panel set into the wall showing now in blinking red the same warning that had already been carried by the computer voice in the corridors.

Closing the distance to the access to the second floor, Evans hauled the young man in front of him. Driven by his own momentum, Julian almost tripped over his own feet before Evans grabbed at his front shirt, pushing him against the metal ladder with a force that knocked the wind out of the young man's lungs and left him dazed for a moment. With only a quick look around, Evans spotted what he needed, snatching the isolinear cable from the floor next to one of the crates. It was a bit too short for his liking, but it had to do. Julian's eyes widened in startled apprehension when Evans took hold of his arms and bent them unceremoniously back, setting about tying them together behind the ladder.

When he tightened the cable around Julian's wrists to make sure the young man would stay exactly where he wanted him, he heard a short, painful yelp.

He didn't bother. Even when another rumbling shook the floor, and the thunder of the enemy weaponry breaking their way through the station's diminishing shields resounded from the walls of the lonely cargo bay, he worked with the calmness of a man whose future depended on the outgoing of one, single deed. Only when he had made sure that the young man wouldn't be able to free himself, he went around the ladder, coming slowly to a halt in front of him. For a long, silent moment, he just regarded Julian with a sudden emotional detachment that surprised himself.

With his disheveled hair and haunted look, his too pale face and hunched shoulders, the young man in front of him bore little resemblance to the easygoing young doctor he had met only a couple of days ago. The transformation was startling. He knew he should feel pity for what was happening to the once so self-confident young man. But he just felt – nothing. Where his feelings for him should have been, was now only a dark, bottomless void...

Julian's shoulders were trembling when he seemed to scrape together his last shreds of courage to lift his pleading gaze to Evans, obviously having realized – even through his clouded mind – that they hadn't taken a stroll down to the deserted cargo bay just for the fun of it.

"Please.." he managed in a voice that came out barely more than a shaky whisper, tugging weakly at the cable that was holding his wrists together. "Dad..."

It was the last straw that broke the camel's back.

The blow with the phaser barrel connecting suddenly and painfully with Julian's jaw made him abruptly choke down the rest of the words, as his head was violently thrown to the side, making him gasp for breath and squeeze his eyes shut at the sudden pain. Overwhelmed by his own rage, Evans grabbed for the young man's chin, forcing his gaze roughly back up, his hand already raised for another blow. When their eyes met, though, something involuntarily made him halt. Julian's tear-filled eyes were wide with pain and fear, staring back at him with a pleading, childlike innocence that took Evans for a moment completely off guard. He knew that look. He knew it all to well. It was exactly the same look that had haunted him for the last 25 years. Every night, he had seen it. The half desperate, half pleading look of the young boy on that fateful evening. The face he had learned to loathe as much as he dreaded it.

Clenching his teeth at the memory, Evans tightened his grip, giving more and more in to all the emotions he had kept such tight control of during all those years.

"Do you know what happened after that night?" he finally hissed in a threatening voice, his eyes narrowing in disdain.

Julian, with his face still in Evans iron grip, managed a weak shake of the head.

"No, of course you don't, Jules!" Evans was short of yelling, the emotions rushing to the fore without him being able to stop them. All the frustration and pent-up anger, the feeling of guilt that had accompanied him like a silent companion throughout all these years, it all came rushing back like a torrent, flooding his mind and body in a moment's notice until he was completely consumed by it. "You don't know anything, Jules! Look at yourself. Look at what you've become!" He spat out coldly, shaking the face in his hand.

"Oh yes, you were lucky. You're no longer the slow and clumsy child you were back then. You made a good career. You've got a good job, Jules. Your life made a turn for the better, a turn no one had ever thought possible. But what about me? Do you know what happened back then? Do you know what happened to me after that night?" He turned away, suddenly unable to meet those pleading eyes any longer. Letting his hand sink, his face contorted into yet another grimace of hot fury.

"Relieved of duty!"

Julian had no chance to see the next blow coming. Evans backhanded him across the face with a force that knocked the young man's head forcefully to the side. Obviously trying hard to stifle the sob that was about to escape his lips, Julian's head dropped to his chest. His whole body was shaking heavily. When he wouldn't lift his head after the violent blow, Evans again forced his gaze up to meet his.

"But the worst was still to follow. I was allowed back to duty. Because no matter what, they just couldn't risk losing the legendary Captain Evans. There was only one condition..." Evans regarded the young man with hatred filled eyes. "He was never to go beyond the rank of a captain. It was his punishment for what he had done. And it should last a lifetime."

The next blow tore the young man's lip and made a trickle of blood ooze from his nose. Coughing, Julian seemed on the verge of passing out. Desperate tears were welling yet again in his eyes when he struggled to speak with trembling lips. "I..I'm..s..sorry..." he choked helplessly. And he sounded as if he really was sorry. Probably sorry to the bottom of his heart.

"You're sorry?" Evans replied icily. "No, Jules, I'm sorry. For not having brought it to an end when I had the chance to. If I have ever made a mistake in my life, then it was that I haven't dealt you a few blows more. Then we wouldn't have this damn conversation now."

He spoke the words with a venom that made Julian flinch in fear of another blow. Instead, however, Evans finally took a few steps back, trying to get to grips with his burning rage. He had done too much already. If he didn't pull himself together now, he'd just make things worse. Fighting down the hot fury within him, he pushed it away, locked it away in order to clear his thinking for the task at hand. "But I won't make the same mistake again. Today I'll put things straight. You were never meant to be here, Jules. And today, I'm going to correct this mistake."

With that he spun around, heading without another word for the exit, leaving the trembling young man to himself.

* * *

"_DAD!"_

_The cry echoed in his mind in an intensity that made it impossible for him to tell if it had ever left his lips. It hurt so much. He felt as if he was torn apart from inside, his breaths coming faster when the figure vanished into the distance._

_When the door at the far end of the room swallow him up and glided shut behind his back, he suddenly felt his whole world coming crashing down on him. He couldn't breathe. Yanking desperately at the cable around his wrists, his heart was pounding so hard in his chest that he felt darkness threatening to close in around him. He mustn't go. He mustn't leave him alone. Half terrified of what was going to happen to him, half terrified about having upset him yet again, an icy feeling of dread closed around his heart._

"_Dad...don't... don't leave me alone..."_

_The terrified sob came from deep within his soul. His vision blurred, hot tears of helplessness rushing to the fore. He struggled to pull himself together, some distant part of his mind reminding him that he wouldn't want him finding him in tears when he came back. But he just couldn't stop crying. Inside, it hurt so much. He barely registered the dull pain creeping through the right side of his face, and the metallic taste when he tried to swallow down the wetness in his mouth._

_He'd upset him, that was why he had been punished. He had made him angry and now he had left him to himself to think about what he had done wrong. Choking on his tears, another terrifying realization hit him. Mum. Where was Mum? What if he told her? Panic threatened to overwhelm him when he frantically pulled at the cable, struggling to get his arms free. He only managed to make the cable cut deeper into his wrists, but still he fought with a desperation born of terror. He was barely aware that the painful, ghostly screams reverberating from the walls around him were his own..._

_He fought until his head spun and his last strength seeped away. But no matter how hard he tried, he wasn't able to free himself. He felt his knees grow weak, until they just collapsed beneath him. Oblivious to the pain that shot up his arms and shoulders, he sagged to the floor, the world around him blurring into a single meaningless mass of forms and figures. Unable to move or to find any clear thought in the chaos that was coursing through him, he just shook with torment._

"_Mum... Dad... don't leave me alone... please... don't... leave me alone..."_

* * *

Constable Odo sprinted through the murky corridor of the habitat ring, dodging a disruptor bolt the split of a second before it came searing through the already smoke-laden air only centimeters next to his face. Instantaneously, he let his arm stretch out to an unnatural length, slamming it right into the startled and unprepared enemy. The Jem'Hadar was sent sprawling backward onto the floor, the disruptor bolt from his weapon missing its aim and slamming into the ceiling above the constable's head, leaving behind an ugly, black smear.

"Park, you take the access way to section 15. We need to keep them at bay and prevent them from fighting their way deeper into the station!"

Even while Odo motioned the officer to get to move, another ill-boding rumbling rocked the station.

"Ferris to Odo."

With a quick look into both directions to make sure that the Jem'Hadar he had just taken out had been the last of his group, he slammed his combadge.

"Odo here, go ahead, Lieutenant."

"We've encountered a problem, Sir. Some of the Jem'Hadar seem to have found a way around us. As far as I can tell, they're heading for the promenade. But we have our hands full here..." the security officer's strained voice came over intercom.

"Acknowledged. Notify Captain Sisko to tell him to evacuate the promenade. Send the people to the other side of the habitat ring. I'll take care of the rest."

Beckoning his other team members to follow him, Odo started off toward the core of DS9, silently praying that they made it there in time. They needed to keep the Jem'Hadar in check and prevent them from ravaging like a devastating wave of death through the veins of the station. Sealing off the docking ring had cut off the enemy's way into the station for the time being, but there were still some few soldiers that had been able to fight their way fast enough into DS9 to reach the habitat ring before the bulkheads had been sealed. Even if he needed to track down every single one of them, he'd find them and then he'd throw them out of the nearest airlock and off the station. He still was chief of security of this station and as long as he was on duty he'd be damned if he allowed the enemy to take over their home.

It didn't take them long to get to the inner core of DS9. Some ten minutes later he was coming to a halt behind the great gearwheel that was separating the corridor from the promenade, signaling his team to halt. At his unspoken question, a young Bajoran officer flipped open her tricorder. "I'm picking up five Jem'Hadar on the other side, Sir."

Odo nodded, a grim determination on his wax-like face.

"We'll split up. You take care of the other corridors. I'll take the way over the replimat. We'll meet at the other end of the promenade."

Even while the heavy gearwheel was rolling to the side, Odo slipped through the widening gap, throwing himself to the right, dodging the first of many ugly disruptor bolts that came trying to slam into the new target. The constable didn't hesitate. With another well-aimed arm shot, he took out one of the three Jem'Hadar he counted on the promenade. Ducking into the door frame of a nearby booth, he peered around its corner and saw the other two Jem'Hadar being knocked down by his men from the other side.

Signaling the rest of his team to proceed and find the remaining two Jem'Hadar, he took another assessing look around, before he ducked his head and scurried over to the still richly-illuminated entrance of the Ferengi bar. Stepping through the door into the normally crowded and noisy place, he found it as deserted and empty as the rest of the promenade. It was a ghostly sight. The place was utterly unrecognizable without all the guests and more or less lucky dabo players with their happy shouts of dabo. He pushed that incongruous thought away, reminding himself that there were more important things right now. Obviously Sisko had given the command to evacuate the area in time before the Jem'Hadar had made their devastating way to the core of the station. He needed to hurry to find the last two Jem'Hadar before anyone got seriously hurt – even though he thought he already knew who that "anyone" would be.

"Quark!" he hissed between clenched teeth. He was sure that the Ferengi was about the last person on this station to willingly comply with the evacuation orders to leave his bar – and earnings – behind in an utterly defenseless state.

When there was no answer, Odo ventured closer to the dabo table. A quick look around told him that the bar was deserted, after all. No sight of a protesting Quark with his pockets full of latinum blocking the constable's way.

Odo snorted under his breath. So obviously at least this time Quark had had enough common sense to bring his lobes out of danger... That made things a lot easier. He needed to find that remaining Jem'Hadar and the last thing he needed now was a civilian who was greedy and stubborn enough to risk his life – and those of his security men – over some ridiculous bars of latinum.

Already about to head for the exit and turn his back on the ghostly place, he jumped up the stairs to the second level – and suddenly felt his non-existing heart stop dead in his chest when he heard the ugly, distinctive hiss of a disruptor bolt searing through the air to slam into the door frame next to him. Instinctively dropping flat on the floor of the second level, he hastily rolled over onto his belly, letting his gaze sweep over the lower level to search for his attacker – and suddenly grimaced in dismay.

The Ferengi was standing with a broken bottle and a triumphant and toothy grin between the bar and the dabo table, towering over the sunken down figure of the Jem'Hadar like a hunter over his slain mammoth.

"He was following you. And I thought, as I happened to be around..."

Odo snorted again, his face drawn into an angry grimace. "Why are you not with the others? Captain Sisko has given orders to evacuate the whole promenade. And that's including you, Quark!"

The Ferengi let the bottle sink and placed it – or what was left of it – on the counter. "No Thank you, Quark? Would you rather have it I hadn't been here and you had a nice little black hole in your chest by now?" Quark arched his brows in mock indignation.

For a long moment the constable stood with his hands on his hips, shooting Quark one of his hard-to-interpret looks. With an unnerved sigh, Odo finally rolled his eyes.

"Okay then, Quark..." he hesitated for a short moment to make sure that no one was eavesdropping. "...thank you."

A triumphant grin played around the edges of the bartender's lips before he went nonchalantly back behind the counter. "You're welcome, Odo. That's what friends are for anyway... I'll put the bottle of syntheol on your tab then."

Before Odo could form a reply and could give in to the temptation to start yet another debate about how their greed for profit would sooner or later be the death of all Ferengi, the sound of phaser fire in the distance cut him off. He needed to go. But he'd come back later for Quark. At first, he needed to find those two - no one - missing Jem'Hadar.

* * *

"Ensign Thomas, please escort Mr. and Mrs. Bashir down to a safer place."

Captain Sisko quickly addressed the young Starfleet woman next to him, before he nodded curtly toward his two guests who had been watching the drama on the main screen from next to the captain's office with pale and ill-looking expressions. It must have been the first time that they were experiencing an attack first hand. Reading about the war and all the battles in the news stream was one thing. Standing on the bridge of a ship – or space station – taking part in one of those battles was a completely different one. The unnerving bleating of the red alarm around them must have set their nerves even further on edge, because they didn't make the slightest objection to Sisko's words, obviously more than glad about being no longer forced to watch their all doom. Not wasting precious time with unnecessary formalities, Sisko turned his attention back to OPS while Thomas gestured for the two civilians to come with her to the turbolift that a few seconds later carried them out of view.

"Captain, the remaining shields have dropped down to 40 percent." O'Brien's strained voice drifted over just to be drowned by the urgent voice of the station's computer that followed.

"Warning, shield generators of upper pylon 2 have failed."

Sisko whirled round, sweat running down his face. "Dax, try another broadband EPS wave. We need to take down their energy."

The young Trill didn't respond but fully concentrated on the task at hand.

"How's the status of their shields?"

O'Brien's response came immediately. "We've taken out three of their ships so far. The Cardassian war ship is in bad shape – but there's still the rest of the Dominion ships. And the reinforcements from the border."

The Captain drew in a sharp breath.

"Odo to Captain Sisko," the security chief's deep voice suddenly resounded over intercom.

"Sisko here, go ahead Constable."

"We were able to stop the Jem'Hadar who made it into the inner ring before the bulkheads were sealed off but we have some wounded here. I think it would be a good idea to have Dr. Bashir come here as fast as possible." The tone of the constable's voice was enough for Sisko to make him picture the destruction and casualties the promenade must have suffered. The situation down there must be worse than Odo wanted him to believe. The Constable knew as well as everyone else that Dr. Bashir was currently in no condition to carry out his medical duties. But what choice did they have? Julian was still a doctor. In the current situation they needed every help they could get. This was not the right time to be picky.

"Sisko to Bashir."

Grabbing the railing for support when another rumbling shook OPS, he waited for the response that never came.

"Captain Sisko to Dr. Bashir, please respond," he repeated, this time raising his voice a little in case Bashir hadn't heard him over the din in OPS.

"Julian is relieved of duty and isn't wearing his combadge, Benjamin," Dax stated matter-of-factly, a dark shadow crossing her strained features. "If the internal communication is jammed, he won't be able to hear us."

Sisko gritted his teeth. "Sisko to Evans."

When he received no response, his brow furrowed.

"Sisko to Captain Evans, please respond, Robert."

He shot Dax a questioning look, though the young Trill just shook her head. "According to the computer, Captain Evans is in his quarters."

Sisko took a subtle step forward. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was dreadfully wrong. Where was Captain Evans? And why didn't he answer his calls? Turning to Kira, he frowned. "Major, I need you to check on Captain Evans. I need to know what's going on. Try to find him – and Dr. Bashir while you're about it."

Kira exchanged a quick but worried glance with Dax, before she nodded. "I'm on my way."

* * *

Cautiously peering around the corner, Evans let his gaze sweep across the deserted corridor in front of him. It hadn't taken him long to find what he had been searching for. They had come aboard in one outer section of the docking ring where the shields must have broken down first. Just as he had assumed. Following the distant sound of disruptor fire, he had finally ventured close enough to determine their exact position.

Weapon drawn and at the ready, he shoved himself around the corner, heading down the long corridor until he finally spotted the gray, scaly alien behind the next bend in the corridor. Tightening the grip around his own weapon, he took a deep breath. He needed them. He needed them to do what he couldn't do himself. Even though everything in him had screamed to bring it to an end there and then in the cargo bay, he'd managed to push down the emotions far enough to think clearly about the consequences. If he made any mistake now, it would cost him what was left of his miserable career. And he adamantly refused to give up this last shred of his miserable life.

Now he only needed to act before he could think about it twice.

If Jules had just died of his injuries at that time, if it had all found an end on those night 25 years ago, he wouldn't have to face such an absurd situation now. In the end, he doubted that it would have made any difference if Jules had never woken up in that hospital again. Because Starfleet hadn't wanted to lose him. He'd been too important for them, his experience and knowledge too precious to sacrifice them over moral principles. Of course they had been bound to punish him – and they had.

Through all these years, he had paid for what he had done. And if anybody thought that Captain Robert Evans had been unaffected by what he had done to his only child, he was simply wrong. He had grieved about the loss of his family, probably more than anyone had thought. Jules had been his son, after all, and he once did have feelings for the boy. But it had run out of control. Something had gone utterly wrong, but once the path was taken, there was no turning back. And every step had brought him further into a direction he had never been able to foresee at the beginning.

25 years ago he had reached the point where he had thought he'd lost everything. But life went on. And at some point, many years later, he had rebuilt his life to an extent that made it possible for him to make peace with his past, to finally let it rest.

But something had gone wrong. Jules coming back into his life had never been part of the plan. He had made peace with his past, had made the guilt and self remorse his silent companion for the rest of his life. He had suffered. Every damn day since that night. He'd suffered, but at the same time there had always been hope on the horizon.

Until some few days ago when Jules had so suddenly reentered his life. He'd never have guessed. The boy had changed so much. When he though back to the first time he had met Dr. Julian Bashir shortly after his arrival at the station, when he thought back to the hours they'd spent with racquetball and how he had developed that strange fondness for the young man even though he had practically known nothing about him, the short feeling of proudness mixed with the painful awareness that he would never be able to get his son back. Having to experience what Jules could have become, if things had just turned out different, made a cold hatred rise within him. If now the truth of what had happened back then came out, he would have suffered all in vain.

No matter what happened now, Jules and he would never be able to return to where they had left off. Their paths had diverged forever on that fateful night. There was no turning back time. He'd once and for all lost what could have been 25 years ago. And he hated Jules for it. All the hope, all the love he had once felt for the child but had never been able to show, all the bitterness and hopelessness mixed into a venom of pure hatred. If there was anything left for him to do, it was to end what had gone wrong in the first place 25 years ago.

Evans took a long, deliberate breath, before he stepped into the corridor and fired.

The phaser bolt missed the Jem'Hadar for about a meter, though the reaction came instantaneously.

With a quick look around, Evans made sure that the Jem'Hadar came after him, before he sprinted back down into the direction where he had come from.

* * *

"Captain Evans?"

Kira paused hesitantly at the door before she finally entered the Captain's quarters.

"Computer, lights."

She had to bypass the access to Evans' quarters with her own security code as the older captain had not been answering her calls. At first, she had felt uneasy about having to break into the quarters of a Starfleet captain, but when she sat foot into the silent and empty room, her misgivings were suddenly replaced by worry. Something was wrong. Captain Evans was nowhere to be seen. Even though the computer insisted that he was in his quarters.

"Computer, locate Captain Evans."

"Captain Evans is in his quarters."

_No, damn, that's where I am_, the young Bajoran thought impatiently, letting her gaze wander nervously through the sterile and tidied-up room. For a short moment she wondered if the captain had brought any personal belongings with him. The room had a cold and uninhabited feeling about it, making a shiver run down her spine. Then she shook her head, reminding herself that she had a purpose for being here, after all. She swiftly went around the table, checking for the captain in his bedroom. No sign of Evans. Coming back to the living-room, she turned one more time on the spot, before her gaze fell on the shiny piece of metal, lying half forgotten under the dining table on the floor.

Absently she crouched down and reached for it, turning it in her hand.

_A combadge._

She immediately knew whose combadge she was holding.

_Evans._

"Kira to Sisko. I guess we have a problem, Sir," she said with a bad feeling in her stomach, drawing herself up.

The captain's response came immediately. "Sisko here, go ahead Major."

Kira turned to stare out the viewport into the blackness of space.

"Captain Evans is not in his quarters. I've found his combadge but there's no sign of Evans himself." Kira hesitated a short moment, before she added in grim tones. "Just as there is no sign of Dr. Bashir."


	10. Chapter 18

**- Chapter 18 -**

"Damn!"

Captain Benjamin Sisko slammed a fist down on the railing, cursing. He should have known. It didn't bode well that Evans as well as Bashir had so suddenly vanished without a trace, not after what he had just learned about their startling past together. So far it was nothing more than a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. But some premonition told him that he needed to find both men, the sooner the better. He wasn't at all sure how Evans would react. All he had learned about the captain in the last hour was so contradictory to how he had gotten to know him over the past couple of days. But now that he came to think about it, Evans _had_ been acting rather strangely of late.

After their departure from Atholes III, he had kept mostly to himself, had never spoken much during the short meetings on board the _Defiant_. Even though, at that time, Sisko had chalked it up to the bitter experience Evans had gone through on the planet – coming back so close to how it once had been without ever being able to return there again – and the great amount of stress the captain had suffered, he now wasn't so sure any longer. He still wondered how exactly Evans had so suddenly learned about the truth, but it surely must have come as quite a shock for the older captain. Was this the real reason behind the captain's earlier request to stay a little longer on the station? If there was nothing about the incident 25 years ago in the official records, what would happen if now the truth came out, when the whole affair now blew up in Evans face?

And Bashir – he just needed to think back to when he had last met the young man this afternoon in the infirmary to make him feel a pang of guilt at having left him unattended in his present condition. He should have known. He should have insisted that Julian stay in the infirmary until they knew what was really happening with the young man and how to stop it. At least he would have been safe there…

"Major, I want you to search for Dr. Bashir. Try to find him. If we can find him, we will most likely also find Captain Evans," he finally commanded in grim tones.

"But sir, without any hint as to his whereabouts, I don't even know where to start looking."

Sisko's expression darkened. "I know Major. But I can't spare more people at the moment. Try to find him. I'll send you help as soon as I can."

For a short moment there was only silence, then Kira said: "Acknowledged. I'll try my best. Kira out."

Sisko suppressed the urge to hit the railing again and passed a sweaty hand over his head instead. The timing couldn't be better. First the Dominion attack, now Bashir and Evans. Another rumbling through OPS pulled him back from his dark thoughts.

Scowling at the viewscreen, he helplessly watched the drama that was happening out in space. No matter how long they were able to keep the Jem'Hadar that had come aboard the station in check, it wouldn't change anything about the fact that this time there wasn't any way out of this. The sheer number of enemy ships already on their way to DS9 as reinforcements from the border was enough to chill him to the marrow.

"Sir! I'm picking up an intensified radiation about five hundred meters off the station!" O'Brien lifted his gaze in the chaos around him, suddenly frowning. "There's something out there!" His fingers hovered indecisively some inches above the console, as if for the first time he wasn't sure what to make of the readouts.

"Dax, how long until the _Victoria _and the _Qalmoh_ arrive at the station?"

The young Trill didn't look up from her readouts. "A little bit more than twenty minutes at present speed."

_That are still twenty minutes we don't have..._

Another hit rocked OPS and made the floor tremble. One of the cooling conduits behind Sisko burst with an ugly hiss, bathing the room into an ill-boding blue twilight.

"Warning. Shields down to 15 percent. Hull breach imminent."

"Sir! Another ship has just decloaked!" O'Brien yelled, his voice almost completely drowned by the hiss of the broken conduit behind the captain. A moment later, his head shot up, his eyes widening. "Captain! It's Starfleet." He incredulously knit his brows, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "We're being hailed."

Sisko suddenly felt all eyes in OPS turn to him.

"The _Victoria_?"

O'Brien shook his head. "She's still too far away from the station."

"On screen!" Sisko bellowed.

A second later, the battlefield in space was replaced by the familiar sight of the bridge of a Starfleet vessel. A middle-aged man with gray hair had drawn himself up, straightening his uniform as he came nearer to the viewscreen.

"Sir! This is Captain Bright of the _Ferret_. I take it, we've arrived just in the nick of time? Leave it to us. I'll explain everything later. We've detected some Jem'Hadar aboard your station. Try to hold out, we're sending reinforcements as soon as we can. We'll take over from here!"

Even before Sisko found his voice, the other captain had already severed the comm link. Half confused, half incredulous, Sisko threw a quick glance at Dax, though the young Trill just shook her head as if to say she didn't know what this was all about either.

"Captain! Some twenty more ships have just decloaked!" Ensign Lopez shouted over the hiss of the broken cooling conduit. "They're all Starfleet!"

Staring unbelievingly at the viewscreen, at the endless number of Starfleet ships just popping out of nowhere, he didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry. The turn in events came so suddenly that for the first time in many years, he was simply speechless. It was the last thing he would have reckoned with. Until moments ago, they all had been facing certain death, the hostile takeover only a matter of time. And now... He couldn't believe what was now happening in front of their eyes. Where did all those ships come from? The _Victoria_ and the _Qalmoh _were still some twenty minutes away. They should have been the first ships to arrive for their help... With a queasy feeling in his stomach, he watched as one of the Dominion ships was ripped apart by two of the newcomers. The fire on the station eased when the remaining Cardassian and Dominion ships concentrated their fire on the new Starfleet armada. He watched in silent awe as the viewscreen filled with the familiar gray of Starfleet ships, suddenly hunting down the remaining enemy ships with painful ease.

"Captain," Dax suddenly urged, pulling Sisko back from his thoughts. "Our shields are holding for the moment. I've redirected auxiliary power into the forward shields. But there are still some Jem'Hadar on the station! What are your orders?"

Willing himself to sever his gaze from the drama that was happening outside in space, he finally turned to the young Trill. "Send all remaining security forces to the lower decks to support Odo and his teams. Try to find every one of those Jem'Hadar and get them off this station!" Sisko said through gritted teeth with barely concealed anger. What the hell was going on here?

Coming around, he shook his head and swiftly addressed Dax and O'Brien. There was still something else that was weighing on his mind at least as heavily. "Dax, Chief, I don't think we have much choice but trust Captain Bright's words for the moment. I think we can handle the situation here. Go and help Major Kira find Dr. Bashir and Captain Evans."

O'Brien's forehead creased into a puzzled frown, but Dax just nodded before they both hurried for the turbolift.

"Promenade!"

While the lift carried them out of view, Sisko turned yet again toward the illuminated viewscreen. The battle was still in full swing but their chances were good. Better than only minutes ago. Scowling at the mass of Starfleet ships that were teeming like an army of soldier ants across the viewscreen, he took in a deep breath, trying to hold his anger at bay. Starfleet would be due for an explanation. And a really good one at that.

* * *

"Commander, what is this all about?"

Chief O'Brien turned to the young Trill as soon as the lift started lurching into motion. He wasn't quite sure why, but there had been a strange urgency in the captain's words and considering how swiftly Dax had acknowledged the orders, he got the bad feeling that something must have happened. He'd seen Julian's parents enter the captain's office some time earlier. They'd been in there for more than an hour before the sudden attack on the station had put an abrupt end to their conversation. He wondered what had happened – but whatever it was, it didn't bode well…

Dax' slender features drew into a painful grimace, when she tried to search for the right words.

"You won't believe it when I tell you, but... to put it short... Captain Evans... is Julian's real father."

The words came so utterly unexpected that for a moment O'Brien just stared at her. For a short second, O'Brien couldn't help wondering if he had heard right, but another look at the young Trill told him that she was more than serious. He needed a few moments to digest this new piece of information, his expression darkening.

Frowning, he shot her a worried glance. "Then... everything that happens with Julian... the thing about the incident with his parents as a child... the breakdown on Atholes III…the nightmares…Julian's strange behavior..."

"...Captain Evans is the key to it all," Dax finished for him.

O'Brien shook his head in disbelief. "But, why hasn't Julian said anything? Or Captain Evans?"

"They both didn't know. As far as we know, Captain Evans wasn't aware of the truth until he found out some time after our mission on Atholes III. But we believe that Julian still doesn't know. His parents just told us. He doesn't know that he had been adopted as a child. He has no idea that he had spent the first few years of his life on Atholes III. And he doesn't know that Evans is his real father."

"Poor Julian," the chief exclaimed, shocked by the implications. How the hell was this possible? So Julian hadn't been lying when he had told him that he couldn't place the event, that he had absolutely no idea when the incident with his parents could have happened and that – at least for him – the whole story didn't fit, that nothing made any sense. "But, how is this possible?"

Jadzia just shook her head. "It's a long story, but I'll explain later. First we need to find them."

"Before _what _happens?" the Irishman asked skeptically.

"I'm not sure," Dax grimaced. "But after all we've just learned, it might be that Evans was completely unprepared for meeting his son after so long time. We don't know how much of an affect it had on him – but there's a good chance that he wasn't very thrilled about Julian coming back into his life. And as both of them are not answering our calls..."

O'Brien nodded, slowly realizing the urgency of the matter. "...we should see to it that we find them before something bad happens."

When the turbolift stopped at the promenade level and the doors parted with a faint hiss, Dax held suddenly back, a thought crossing her mind.

"Chief, is there any way to find Julian even without his combadge? It'll take much too long to go searching for him if we don't even know where to start. The last time I saw him was when I accompanied him back to his quarters this evening. I left his quarters when he said he wanted to get some rest. According to the computer, he's no longer there. Kira said he hadn't been in the infirmary either – and she has just searched Evans' quarters. There's no sign of either of them."

"Could he have taken shelter somewhere during the evacuation of the docking ring?"

Jadzia shook her head. "I doubt it. He was so unsure and lost when I brought him back to his quarters, I don't think he went wandering around the station on his own. And his quarters are not so close to the docking ring that he could have been accidentally trapped on the other side when we sealed off the bulkheads."

O'Brien thought for a moment. Then he turned to the computer console and swiftly entered his access code. "Computer, show me a list of all civilian persons on this station who can not be identified by a hundred percent."

A few seconds later, a map of DS9 popped up on the computer terminal, followed by a number of red dots scattered about it.

"That's still too many," Dax bit her lower lip, scanning the map for any hint as to which one of those dots could be Julian.

O'Brien did the same. About to address the computer again, he suddenly paused when his gaze fell on the outer section of DS9. Several red dots were moving restlessly through the corridors of the docking ring. Considering the fact that the bulkheads had been sealed off, a great many of them must be the Jem'Hadar that had come aboard the station. At the sheer number of those scaly alien soldiers, now running loose in the docking ring, he felt a cold shiver run down his spine. "Computer, how many of those persons can be identified as human?"

Most of the red dots on the screen vanished. There still were too many, however, to just go checking on every one of them at random.

"Computer, who has authorized the use of cargo bay 3?" the chief suddenly frowned. Cargo bay 3 hadn't been in active use for the past several years. It was used as a storage room for some technical equipment that had been replaced when the station had been taken over by Starfleet six years ago but it was only seldom that anyone set foot into the cargo bay in these days.

Dax' gaze flickered to the section the chief was referring to. After the bulkheads had been sealed, no civilian should be dwelling in the docking ring area, least of all in a storage bay that should have been only accessible to technical personnel. "Do you think it's one of Odo's security men?"

O'Brien, too, stared at the red, unmoving point. Slowly, he shook his head. "I'm not sure. But if it were security, he would move in the corridor, wouldn't he?"

Dax shot him a quizzical gaze, before the computer's voice finally replied.

"Unknown. This information is not on file."

O'Brien's head went up at this. "Computer, when did the access happen?"

"At 2300 hours."

"That was only some twenty minutes ago," the young Trill stated.

O'Brien's face grew dark. He beckoned her to follow him. "We can as well start there. Let's take a look."

* * *

_He hung collapsed from the ladderway, his arms twisted unnaturally upward behind his back. The weight of his body was pulling him farther and farther down, making it impossible for him to move. Only dimly was he aware of the physical pain that was creeping up through his arms and shoulders, the anguish inside him drowning out every other sensation._

_Battered and broken, he just cowered there, eyes closed tightly._

_He had cried until there were no tears left. Now he was only waiting for it to end. Time had lost its meaning. He knew that sooner or later he would come back. And that it would all come to an end then. The only thing he could do now was wait. Sucking in shallow breaths through his already sore throat, his chest was aching with every move. If he just weren't so tired. His body was numb with pain, his head hurting so much that it was impossible for him to find any clear thought. _

_Silently wishing to die on the spot, he suddenly felt a jolt when his body slid even farther down toward the floor. His head snapped to his chest, the sudden movement tearing him involuntarily from his stupor._

_Reluctantly, he opened his eyes. The room needed a few seconds to steady but then the gray floor of the cargo bay came into focus. Only slowly did his dizzy mind register that the all-present, numbing pain in his arms had slightly eased. Trying to hold on to the odd thought, he first wasn't sure what it meant. But then the realization hit him. The cable. It must have given way under his weight. He still felt it tying his wrists to the ladder in his back, but the pressure had slightly eased. For another eternity, he just stayed still, trying to get his mind working again._

_Get out of here. Run away._

_It was the only clear thought in the chaos coursing through him. What if it wasn't too late? What if he was still able to run away? He felt his heartbeat speed up at the faint flicker of hope. Awkwardly, he tried to climb back to his feet, struggling to push himself back in an upright position. Everything happened in an agonizing slowness, but at least he did move. He tried to block out the pain in his arms when he attempt to get back up, and gritted his teeth at the nausea and vertigo that came with it._

_When he was halfway back on his unsteady feet, he tried to move his hands, though there still wasn't much to go. Tugging at the cable, he tried to loosen it further, finally starting to pull more vigorously when its hold wouldn't yield. He had to get away from here. He didn't have time. He could come back every second now... _

_He felt panic rise within him. He yanked harder, struggling now desperately to get his wrists free. A searing pain shot through his arms when he blindly pulled at the cable to loosen it. He barely felt his hands any more but he didn't stop. For the first time since he'd been brought here, he felt a smidgen of hope. Clinging desperately to that tiny shred of hope, he struggled blindly against the firm hold around his wrists, writhing and tearing until he felt his own blood sickening wet against his palms. And finally, after an agonizing eternity, he felt the cable loosen far enough for him to pull his hands free with a last terrified cry.  
_

_He hastily tried to untangle himself from the ladderway, just to feel his legs give way. He crashed down to floor, conscious enough to break his fall somewhat with his hands, though the sight of his bruised and bloody wrists just made his sickness worse. He staggered back to his feet. He didn't know where he was. For a dreadful moment he just stood there, utterly disoriented and lost. _

_Then his instincts began screaming at him again. He needed to get out of here. He needed to take cover before he came back. _

_Turning in circles, he suddenly heard the distinctive hiss of the door thundering through the heavy silence of the bay. Frozen dead in his tracks, he felt a bottomless abyss open beneath him._

* * *

Bolting through the door of the cargo bay, Captain Robert Evans held on tightly to the phaser, the only thing separating him now from certain death. He still was a little ahead of them but he needed to hurry if he didn't want to be sent to heaven's gate by one of his scaly pursuers before he could accomplish his task. He could already hear the sound of their heavy boots slamming in the distance.

Swiftly, he turned toward the far end of the cargo bay – and felt as if he had been dealt a sudden punch in the stomach.

Jules was gone.

Where the young doctor should have been was now nothing but thin air – and the discarded isolinear cable together with some distinctive stains of red on the floor. He swiftly scanned the bay and its cargo for any hint as to where he might have gone, but found none.

"JULES!"

He felt his heart stop dead in his chest. Every moment now a file of Jem'Hadar soldiers was going to storm into the room and he hadn't intended to put himself into their way. His thoughts raced. For a sickening long moment, he felt it all falling apart.

He would still have stood there, utterly perplex and shocked, hadn't his body taken action, before his mind could. His instincts, honed by years of training and the experience of countless battles, made him move just in time to safe his life. Sprinting over to the access way to the upper level, he struggled up the ladder steps to the catwalk that was running around the whole bay. Just in time he reached one of the maintenance tubes and crawled into it before he heard the door far down below him hissing open again.

Then the thunder of boots.

"Sir, he's not here!"

"That's impossible, we saw him go in!" The impatience in the alien voice was clearly audible.

Suddenly, a third voice resounded from the walls. "This is a trap. It won't be necessary to waste our time here. Third, activate the clearance program. If anybody really is in here, he'll regret it in a few minutes."

Another moment later, the thunder of boots faded. Slowly, Evans came out of his cover. His blood was rushing in his ears when he tried to clamp down on the flutter of panic. Jules was gone. But he had no time to go searching for him. If the cargo bay was really cleared of its content, than everything in this room was going to be sucked out into space in a few minutes – and that was the end of it.

"Damn!"

He didn't have time to vent more of his anger. Jumping down the ladderway, he staggered to find his balance. He sprinted over to the access door, hammering at the opening mechanism. To no avail. The door wouldn't move.

"Warning. Decompression in three minutes."

Evans slammed his fist onto the control panel, looking around in panic.

"Computer, stop decompression. Authorization Evans 1-8-5 alpha."

"Access denied. Invalid authorization code. Decompression in two minutes and 51 seconds."

* * *

Running silently side by side through the deserted and empty passageway that connected the habitat and the docking ring, they tried to give every red dot meandering over the tiny display on O'Brien's tricorder a wide berth. They didn't have time to risk an open combat. Odo and his men were already on their way, they would take care of the rest. Every now and then the distant roar of phaser fire drifted through the lonely corridors, reminding them that the battle wasn't over yet. Checking the chronometer, Dax felt a pang of anxiety. What if they didn't make it in time? She cursed their luck that both men had chosen right this moment to vanish without a trace. They would have beamed right into the cargo bay, hadn't every bit of remaining energy been sent into stabilizing the shields. For the first time in years, she got painfully aware of how big this station was.

If just Evans wouldn't do anything stupid. How could they all have been so wrong about the older captain? Some part of her still refused to believe what Julian's parents had told her. She couldn't imagine that Evans – of all persons – should have such a dark past to hide. But still, that Kira had found the captain's combadge left only one possible conclusion: Evans' didn't want to be found. Quickening her steps, she couldn't but hope that they weren't too late. They were almost there... only a few more meters...

She almost bumped into O'Brien when the chief suddenly lowered his tempo. Following his gaze, she drew in a sharp breath, whirling back around the corner and pressing herself flat against the corridor wall.

_Jem'Hadar._

"How many are there, Chief?"

O'Brien shook his head. "Only two or three. Damn, that's all we needed."

Cautiously, he peered once again round the corner. His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What is it, Chief?" Dax probed, her voice tense.

"They're heading off in the other direction," O'Brien simply stated, though the tinge of relief in his voice was hard not to notice. The Irishman clutched the phaser with both hands, slowly rounding the corner. A second later, Dax was at his side.

"What was that?" The chief shook his head, flipping open his tricorder to check where the aliens were so suddenly headed.

"Someone's activated the decompression," Dax frowned as she stepped closer to the door of the cargo bay in front of them, checking the small comm panel at its side. "Whoever is inside, he will soon be floating in space if we don't do stop it."

So that had been the reason for the Jem'Hadar's sudden departure. Once the decompression was activated, the only way to stop it was to input a security code – which was only possible from the outside. Whoever was inside the cargo bay, he was of no danger to the Jem'Hadar. Dax preferred not to think about what would have happened, had they arrived only a few minutes later...

Her fingers danced over the control panel, then she punched in the security code to stop the decompression. O'Brien came to her side, phaser drawn.

When the door to cargo bay 3 whooshed open, showing the inside of the half empty bay, Chief O'Brien was the first to enter. He wasn't even surprised to find Captain Evans towering half incredulous, half stunned right in front of them. There was no sign of Bashir. So they had finally found at least one person they'd been looking for. He wasn't sure if he should have felt relieved about the fact that it was Evans.

"Chief? Commander?" The older captain seemed totally taken aback by their sudden appearance.

Stepping next to O'Brien, Dax grimaced. "Where's Julian?" she asked without much preamble.

Evans' eyes flickered sideways, before he just shook his head, shrugging nonchalantly. "I don't think I can follow you, Commander. What do you mean?"

"Julian is missing. We can't find him," O'Brien offered in neutral tones.

A faint flicker of disdain crossed the captain's handsome features at the mentioning of the young man's name. Shrugging again, he chuckled humorlessly. "And that should be my problem?" he said in a cool voice, his hand slowly beginning to move to his side.

"Why haven't you reported to OPS? The station is under attack. It's your duty as a Starfleet officer to help defend the station," Dax stated in an equally cool voice.

"In order to do what exactly, Commander? Another man standing uselessly in OPS? Believe me, it made much more sense to help the security team down here to chase away the Jem'Hadar."

O'Brien frowned. "So this was why the Jem'Hadar trapped you in here?"

"I wanted to trap them in here, yes. But instead, I got trapped myself," Evans replied in a calm voice. "If you hadn't come in time, I would now be floating out in space..."

"Where's your combadge?" Dax demanded, her hand slowly wandering toward her phaser.

For a long moment, Evans regarded her with a blank expression, obviously pondering his answer. Then his lips drew into a tight line, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"I guess I must have lost it..." Evans began, suddenly grabbing for his weapon and whirling to the side at the same time. The next instant, he dropped down to the floor, raising his phaser at the young Trill. Even before he had the chance to pull the trigger, the sudden impact of a phaser bolt that scorched the ground right next to his leg made him freeze dead in his movement.

"STOP!"

Startled, Evans whirled round into the direction of the sudden attacker – and grimaced in barely masked shock.

Julian Bashir had jumped from behind one of the cargo boxes the same instant Evans had wanted to open fire on Dax and O'Brien. The older captain shot him a look of sheer disbelief. "JULES!"

"Julian!" Dax called out in equal surprise, at the same time drawing in a sharp breath at the bad shape the young man was in. His face was as white as chalk, his shoulders trembling heavily when he clutched the phaser awkwardly in both shaky hands. Dark bruises were covering the right side of his tear-smeared face, a thin trickle of dried blood running from his nose. The sleeves of his blue undershirt were soaked in a dark red where they touched his bloody wrists. He looked like he had stepped right out of a nightmare.

When she tried to take a reassuring step into his direction, Bashir yanked the barrel of the phaser at her, then again back at Evans. She could clearly sense his indecision, but also his confusion and helplessness. He looked as if he was about to collapse in front of their eyes, his knuckles turning a pale white when his grip around the phaser tightened even further. He was beyond reason, there was no doubt to that. The last time she had seen him this bewildered and agitated had been back on board the _Defiant _after she had woken him from his nightmare. From her experience back then she knew that there was no way of knowing how he would react now.

"Julian, wait!" She tried with upraised hands, though it just made Julian direct the phaser back at her. His eyes were wide with distress.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed an equally horror-stricken look on O'Brien's face. At the same time Evans had obviously regained enough of his composure to draw himself back up from the floor. He quickly patted off the dust on his uniform, before he straightened, turning unperturbedly to Julian with dark, disapproving eyes.

When Evans took a step in the young man's direction, Bashir yanked the barrel of his phaser back at Evans, his face contorted into a grimace of pure agony. Dax couldn't tell if it was due to the physical pain, or if it came from whatever horror Julian was obviously reliving in his mind.

"Don't … don't come...!" Julian's words came out barely more than a hoarse croak. "Don't come any closer!"

"And what if I do?" Evans asked in a calm voice, nearing him ever so slowly, like a hunter his prey. His eyes never left the young man. "Will you shoot me?" Evans laughed without a smile. Then he snorted. "No, Jules. You're not capable of doing that. You won't shoot. You know it as well as I do."

The young man backed away. With every step Evans came closer, Julian's gaze became more desperate and pleading. "Stop it... don't... come any nearer... please, Dad." He looked like he was on the verge of breaking into tears.

"Then shoot me, Jules. Make it quick and take revenge for everything you had to go through in your childhood. Now you have the opportunity. Shoot and all your problems will be solved." Evans' voice was icy, his words sharp as a knife. "But consider this: if you miss, you'll regret it. I will personally make you regret it. Everything you have ever done wrong in your life! Be sure of it, Jules. Try and I will show you that the pain from 25 years ago was just the beginning."

Julian stared at his father with a look of sheer terror. His arms were shaking so violently that the barrel of the phaser was dancing wildly through the air. He opened his mouth in response, but wasn't able to bring forth a single word.

In the same instant, Evans all of a sudden lunged forward, batting the phaser out of Julian's hand. The weapon was sent flying in a wide arc through the air before it landed with a loud thud slithering some meters farther down the cargo bay. The next blow knocked Julian off his feet and sent him sprawling backwards onto the floor.

"Captain!" Dax yelled at the same time. It all happened so fast. So ludicrously fast.

The next thing she knew, Evans was atop of the young man, pinning him down to the floor with his own body weight. The first blow that connected with Julian's jaw made him flail out in reflex to free himself. Squirming, he tried to shield his face from the frantic blows that followed next, thought Evans was just too strong. His face contorted into a mask of pure hatred when he finally gave in to his burning rage. With every furious blow Evans delivered, Julian cried out in pain, gasping for breath and blindly struggling to evade the older man's iron grip. With his fearful, heart-wrenching sobs echoing from the walls around, Dax felt her stomach turn.

"Captain Evans! Stop it!" Her warning shot hit the floor next to both men, making Evans' head jerk back up. Her shot had obviously succeeded in pulling him back to the here-and-now, because he suddenly paused, staring at the writhing young man beneath him with a nauseated expression. A chaos of emotions was flickering over his reddened face, a dreadful mixture of anger – and madness above all. Whatever had happened, Evans had completely lost control over his actions. One hand closed around his son's throat, his shoulders shook with barely suppressed emotions.

Dax could see how Julian was struggling to suck in shallow breaths, trying to fill his battered lungs with air, though in vain. He desperately clawed at the hand pressing down on him, but Evans didn't even seem to notice. The young Trill's mind raced. She had to do something. She had to draw Evans' attention. If not, she was sure that Julian wouldn't survive the next moments.

"Captain, this won't solve anything." She felt her heart beat up into her throat when she leveled the phaser again at Evans, well aware of the captain's own weapon resting against the young man's neck. She wasn't sure if he really would go so far – but she couldn't risk taking chances.

"Put your weapon down!" now also O'Brien came closer in a circle, his own phaser raised at Evans. "It's over, Captain."

"If I were you, I wouldn't come any nearer!" Evans hissed in the chief's direction, applying more pressure to the young man's throat. Julian involuntarily squeezed his eyes shut, struggling frantically for breath. He was about to lose the battle with Evans.

"Let him go!" Dax shouted again.

Evans shot her a disgusted look. There suddenly was so much bitterness in the older man's words when he finally spoke. "What do you know, Commander? If it were just that easy. All these years. All the effort. For nothing! You have no idea!" His face drew into another mask of pure contempt. And the next second, he had yanked the phaser in her direction, making her throw herself to the side to evade the phaser streak that was shooting toward her utterly unexpectedly. Hastily, she scuttled behind one of the crates, taking cover from the sudden attack, ready to fight back. With a quick glance sideways she noticed that O'Brien had been conscious enough to do likewise, taking cover behind a container to her right.

Peering over the rim of the crate, she saw Evans slowly drawing himself up from the floor. As soon as his grip around Julian's throat loosened, the young man reflexively curled up, coughing convulsively and spilling blood on the floor of the cargo bay. His nose was bleeding again, his lip torn by the violent blows Evans had delivered. Lying half conscious face-down against the floor, he was obviously struggling hard to hold onto consciousness.

It was now or never.

Linking her eyes for a short moment with the chief's, she nodded and jumped up from behind the crate, ready to take down the older captain, when an ugly disruptor bolt slammed into the cargo to her left. She instinctively thrust her arms up at the explosion, ducking again behind her cover in a desperate attempt to shield herself from the impact. Dazed, she looked around and half expected the older captain to have opened fire on them again. Instead, the commotion came now from the other side of the room – the entrance to the cargo bay.

"Commander, the Jem'Hadar!" she heard the chief's voice over her combadge.

In the next instant, she saw them. They had come swarming into the cargo bay when neither of them had been prepared for it. The next disruptor bolt followed only another second later, then a third. Almost in reflex, she fired back, hitting the first scaly alien square into his breast plate. The Jem'Hadar soldier was knocked off his feet and into the next alien behind it.

Another two had been taken out by two well-aimed shots from another angle. A side-glance told her that O'Brien, too, was concentrating his fire on the entrance, trying to prevent the enemy forces from flooding the cargo bay. She used the chance to peer over to where Evans had been, just to notice that the captain was gone. Julian was still lying doubled over on the floor. He didn't move. For a dreadful long moment she feared the worst, until she saw his fingers curl ever so slightly.

"Chief! We have to get Julian out of the line of fire! How many more Jem'Hadar?"

Her mind was racing.

"There are another five at the entrance. But there are more in the corridor! We won't be able to hold them up forever!" the chief shouted over his combadge.

She tried to get an overview over the situation, peeking again over the rim of the container, firing blindly at the Jem'Hadar emerging from behind their comrades that had already gone down to the floor. Then she whirled back at Julian's unmoving figure. She couldn't tell how badly he was injured. But he needed medical attention, that much was clear. With some luck they would be able to drag him behind one of the crates before it occurred to anyone to fire on a person who was already lying on the ground.

"Commander," O'Brien's urgent voice pulled her back from her thoughts, "I have an idea. We still have the security program. If we manage to activate the clearance protocol, we'll be able to empty the cargo in here into space. We just need to find cover before we shut down the force field that is separating the cargo bay from space."

Dax kept firing upon the torrent of Jem'Hadar and cast a quick look around.

As if he had been able to read her thoughts, O'Brien's voice resounded only a moment later. "There's an access way to a maintenance tube some way behind you. There's another one a little further down to my left. Try to fight your way to the access panel and the maintenance tube. I'll get Julian."

Dax took in her surroundings with one quick, assessing look. "I'll give you rear cover!"

With that she took out another one of the scaly aliens that came rushing into the cargo bay like a torrent that broke through a dam. "Okay, on three. One. Two. Three."

* * *

O'Brien cursed their luck and berated himself for not having taken along some members of security. But there just hadn't been enough time. At the mere thought of how many more Jem'Hadar worriers were lurking out in the corridor, pouring in as soon as their fellow worriers went down to the ground, he felt his legs grow weak. A quick look at his tricorder showed at least another twenty dots moving into their direction. And he doubted that they were security.

Squinting back at the entrance to the cargo bay, he waited for the young Trill to count down the seconds. On three, he ducked his head and scuttled over to where Julian was still lying slumped on the ground. Slithering to a halt next to the young man, he realized with astonishment, that Julian still seemed to be conscious, his eyes fluttering open when he felt the chief's firm grip around his arms.

"It's okay, Julian. It's me, Miles. We'll get you out of here," he hurried soothingly. Bashir's eyes were a whirlpool of confusion when he stared at the chief as if he saw him for the first time. _He's no idea who I am..., _O'Brien realized with a start.

He pushed his worry aside and pulled one of Julian's battered arms over his shoulders. Taking care not to touch his injured wrists, he hauled the young man up from the floor. Julian winced at the fresh pain that shot up his shoulder at the movement, but he didn't fight back. His legs threatened to fold just again beneath his body and his feet barely worked properly when O'Brien dragged him with him behind one of the crates, easing him carefully down to the ground. And not one second too early. Another disruptor bolt hit the ground where Julian had until moments ago been lying. Cursing under his breath, the chief took out the next Jem'Hadar that had come stumbling through the door of the cargo bay with a well-aimed hit.

Then, for a short moment, the room lapsed into an eerie silence.

Not yet willing to leave his cover, O'Brien tapped his combadge. "Commander, I'm not sure how much time we have, but it's now or never! There's another group of Jem'Hadar headed this way. We won't have much time."

Only a second later, the tense reply came. "You go first, I'll give you cover!"

He took another quick look around, before he knelt down beside Bashir. The young man's eyes had closed, his breaths coming shallow and fast. Grasping Julian by his shoulders, the chief gently shook him as to draw his attention. "Julian?" It worked. His hazel eyes slowly came open again.

"Julian, listen. We have to get over to the maintenance tube, you understand me? It's important." He thought he saw a flicker of panic in Bashir's eyes, then a look of confusion. "We have to... get to another place. Right over there. We have to be quick, before more Jem... before more of those monsters are coming," the chief tried again, this time adopting the same tone as if he were speaking to Molly. Praying to the prophets that Julian was reasonable enough to understand his words, the chief stowed away his phaser and placed one arm again over his shoulders to help and steady the young man.

Julian was swaying dangerously but with the chief's help he somehow managed to remain in an upright position.

"...head...hurts..." he mumbled feebly when he leaned on the chief for support, trying to walk with him the best he could.

"I know, Julian. We'll get you to the infirmary. Just hang on a little longer, you hear me!" the chief commanded with a conviction he didn't quite feel. But for once, O'Brien was glad that Julian at least didn't offer any argument.

When they had made it halfway to the maintenance tube, his combadge signaled.

"Chief, they're coming!" Dax strained voice urged him to hurry.

As soon as he reached the entrance to the tube, he took off the closing with one foot before he lowered Julian to the ground and urged him to crawl into the tube. It all happened in agonizing slowness but Bashir did as he was told. His movements were unsteady and shaky – it was a wonder that he was still conscious after all – but he obeyed the chief's words with a childlike obedience until he had crawled far enough into the tube for O'Brien to come in after him.

Having worked the protective cover back in place, the chief hastily tapped his combadge. "Commander, we're ready!"

* * *

Running with her head down toward where O'Brien had told her was the entrance to the maintenance tube, she threw another assessing look at the readouts. The group of Jem'Hadar out in the docking ring was coming closer. They had only moments left.

"Chief, they're coming!" she urged the chief to hurry.

Dax pried the cover of the maintenance tube loose, then she ran over to the access panel, punching in her security code. Now she only needed to give the command and the room here would be emptied into space...

Her combadge signaled.

"Commander, we're ready!" the chief's strained voice came finally over intercom.

_Good. Just in time._

About to crawl into the tube, she suddenly froze.

_Evans._

She had completely forgotten about the older captain. She couldn't leave him back. He would either get killed by the Jem'Hadar – or would get sucked out into space in the course of the decompression. In either way, he wouldn't survive if he didn't take shelter.

"Captain Evans!" she yelled, scanning the room for any hint as to where the captain could have vanished.

"This room will soon be emptied into space! We have to take cover!" she shouted.

She turned – and suddenly felt her heart skip a beat when she felt strong hands closing around her throat from behind. Flailing out, she only hit thin air, the attacker in her back too strong to struggle free of his grip. She had no air to scream. Wriggling to free herself, she brought up her heel high in her back, silently thanking Emony for all the years and training as a gymnast. She heard a loud groan. The grip around her throat loosened. With another punch of her elbow, she struggled free, whirling around to face her attacker.

Captain Evans was standing behind her, his weapon drawn.

He was scowling at her as if he was about to leap onto her every second now. His face twisted with rage as he came slowly nearer. He was beyond reason, there was no doubt to that. It chilled her to the marrow to see the once so self-confident Starfleet captain with his special sympathy and feeling of authority now so unpredictable and wild.

"You shouldn't have interfered," he finally hissed through clenched teeth, coming ever closer. "If you had just kept to your own business. There was absolutely no need to poke your nose into other people's business. This here is something between me and Julian. How dare you presume to act as if you knew everything."

Dax involuntarily backed up a step, not taking her eyes from the other man.

"Killing your son won't solve the matter, Captain," she retorted, for the first time startled at seeing such open violence in the older man's gray eyes.

Evans shook his head, his lips pressed into a tight line as if he was still refusing to accept the inevitable. Like a drowning man who was desperately clutching at the mast of a sinking ship, stubbornly refusing to abandon it. "You don't understand, Commander. The only thing I'm going to do is correct what went wrong in the first place. I've been through all of this before. I have once paid the price for what happened. I won't pay it twice. Jules was never meant to come back into my life. The boy should have died 25 years ago. That's what it's been like for me. That's what it's been like for our family. And nothing that happens now will change anything about this." His face twisted with bitterness. "Jules Evans died 25 years ago. He's _dead._ I'm just going to make sure it remains so."

Dax couldn't believe what she was hearing. Was he really serious?

Evans took another subtle step into her direction, leveling the phaser at her. She had no doubt that he had set it to kill.

"This here," he said slowly, emphasizing every one of his words, "is a unique chance. I won't get it twice. There's no other way for Julian and me. It's eat or being eaten. It's a simple as that. I'm only sorry that you got involved into all of this, Commander. You and your chief." He thumbed the setting of the phaser to the maximum. "I'm truly sorry. You're a talented woman. I hate to do this but..."

The captain suddenly choked.

The last words never made it past his lips when his body suddenly convulsed – and he collapsed with a painful groan unceremoniously down to the floor, eyes wide with utter surprise at the unexpected phaser shot from the young Trill. Dax still felt her heart pounding so hard in her chest that she needed another second to gather herself.

Stowing away her own weapon, she hurried over to his slack body, dragging him with her toward the tube. _That's the problem with you villains_, she though glumly, _you just talk too much and act too slow._

Getting Evans with her into the tube was difficult – but finally she managed. And no second too early.

She heard the heavy slamming of boots, when another flood of Jem'Hadar soldiers came streaming into the now desolate cargo bay. She counted about fifteen to twenty soldiers. Waiting for the group to be complete, she finally tapped her combadge and took a deep breath.

"Computer, activate emergency program!"

Within a second, the cargo bay was filled with the mixture of low-pitched alien screams and the unaccustomed roar of air rushing out into the vacuum of space. She held her breath, silently counting up to 20 before she tapped her combadge again. "Seal force field!"

Trying to get her thumping heart back under control, she waited only another minute more, before she crawled out of her cover, dashing over to where O'Brien and Bashir were hiding.

* * *

_Pain. _

_And darkness._

_Every breath an effort he was no longer able to make._

_He desperately fought against the impenetrable, cold darkness that was trying to claim him. He could already feel it around him, wrapping itself tightly around his shivering body. If he just weren't so tired. He felt so utterly exhausted. Exhausted from the fear, exhausted from the pain, exhausted from running away..._

_Pain. His whole body felt like a mess of pain and anguish, every labored breath sending countless needles piercing through his battered lungs. His head felt like it was going to explode from within. And his soul felt as dry and empty as a dessert itself. _

___He knew that he was gone. He didn't know what had happened. Or where he was. He only knew that he was gone, that he would never touch him again..._

_But still, he felt so terribly hollow inside. And forlorn. It felt as if a part of his soul had been ripped away. And there was nothing there to fill the hole that had been left behind._

_Through the haze in his mind, he was dimly aware of someone being next to him. Someone who had found him in his nightmare. And protected him. He tried to remember what had happened – or who that person was. Because he knew that it was important. But he couldn't. The pressure in his forehead made it impossible for him to hold on the train of thought. And the fleeting notion glided again just out of reach._

_He tried to open his eyes. But his eyelids suddenly felt so heavy. As if they weighed tons. Just like the rest of his body.  
_

_He felt so heavy, like if the floor was suddenly rushing up to meet him. With it came an overwhelming, excruciating fatigue – and this time he didn't fight it. _

_He just wanted to sleep. Long and deep. And perhaps never wake up again...  
_

* * *

Unable to see what was happening outside in the cargo bay, O'Brien was impatiently waiting for Dax to activate the emergency program. Already about to crawl once again out of his cover to check if everything was alright, he held back when he finally heard the young Trill's decisive words over his combadge.

"Computer, activate emergency program!"

Only half a minute later, the air rush out in the cargo bay suddenly subsided. He imagined the force field flickering back on. And the cargo bay filling again with valuable air. Letting out a heavy sight, he leaned his head back against the tunnel wall, allowing himself to close his eyes for just a short moment. They were safe. The Jem'Hadar that had been following them were now drifting out in space.

The joy about their success lasted only a short moment, though, when he suddenly realized that Julian's upper part of the body had slid to the side, his head coming to rest exhaustedly on the chief's shoulder. His eyes were closed, his face inert and even peaceful hadn't it been for the dark bruises and the half-dried blood that was smeared over the right side of his face. He didn't move. "Julian?" Alarmed, O'Brien called the young man's name. "Julian?!"

He grasped him by his arm, gently shaking him, though Bashir showed no reaction. "Julian! Can you hear me?"

O'Brien felt the panic rise within him. He didn't know how badly the young man was injured. He was no doctor, but Julian's sight alone made his mind scream at him to bring him to the infirmary as quickly as possible. Feeling for a pulse, he noticed with relief that he was still alive – though only barely. He hardly seemed to breath at all. "Bloody hell, don't you dare die on me now!" the chief exclaimed.

Kicking at the protective cover, he shoved himself out of the tube, bringing Julian with him back out into the now empty cargo bay. A moment later, Dax came running over to his side, kneeling down next to them. She already had her tricorder in hand, waving it about the unmoving young man.

"He's not responding. I don't know what happened."

"He's lost consciousness," the young Trill stated swiftly, "he's lost some blood and he's trouble breathing – but he'll live. He needs medical attention. We need to get him to the infirmary. "

"What about Evans?" the chief suddenly remembered, casting a quick glance around the now empty cargo bay. "Do you think he's...?"

Dax grimaced, a dark shadow clouding her pale features. "I got him. He's stunned – at least for the moment."

O'Brien shot her a puzzled look but refrained from commenting. About to activate his combadge, the urgent beeping of the tricorder made them both pause.

"What is it?" the chief asked anxiously.

Dax shook her head, staring intently at the tiny device in her hand. Then at Julian's unmoving form. "I… don't know. I'm not sure but… the tricorder's showing an unnatural activity at the frontal lobe of his cerebral cortex. I'm no doctor but I've never seen anything like this..." She knit her brows, still studying the readouts.

"Which means?" the chief probed.

The young Trill again shook her head, a look of utter helplessness crossing her face. "I wish I knew…"

She slapped her combadge. "Dax to Sisko."

"Sisko here, go ahead, Old Man," the reply came almost immediately.

"We've found them, Benjamin. Julian's injured. We need a medical emergency team down here. And a security team to take care of Captain Evans."

O'Brien thought he could literally feel the captain's dark glare over intercom. There was a short pause, until the captain finally replied, his voice as grim as if he had just learned that his worst nightmare had come true.

"Acknowledged. Stay were you are. We'll get you out of there as soon as possible!"


	11. Chapter 19

**- Chapter 19 - **

_Captain's Log, stardate 51701:_

_After many long hours of reconstruction, life on the station is slowly coming back to normal. The repair works are almost completed, the additional ships that have been dwelling near the station since the battle with the Dominion some days earlier now gradually leaving the Bajoran sector for new assignments. _

_It was not but after a long and extensive conversation with Admiral Ross that I've finally realized the real extent of our mission on Atholes III. Everything had been set up and planned by Starfleet in advance: DS9 had never been in any real danger – even though I have to admit that I find it hard to believe the admiral's words._

_A little more than a month ago, a Vulcan research vessel called _T'Hekal_ was on an exploratory mission in the depths of the alpha quadrant to investigate the phenomenon of rarely seen chroniton clusters in the heart of the enemy's territory – though there had been more to the ship's mission than just simple scientific research. Only one month later, after the devastating attack on DS9 and the defeat of the Dominion armada in the course of the fighting, Starfleet officially acknowledged that _T'Hekal's_ real mission deep in Cardassian space had been to collect important intelligence information about the Dominion activity on the other side of the border. Only when the outgoing of _T'Hekal's_ secret mission was put in jeopardy by the ship's sudden disappearance, Starfleet Headquarters decided to send the _Defiant _to investigate. Even though it was officially classified a rescue mission, the real purpose behind our mission on Atholes III was not only to destroy the newly discovered weapons factory and cloning facility on the planet, but also to bring the commander of the Vulcan research vessel – Captain T'Lhan – together with the collected intelligence information safely back to Federation space._

_While the _Defiant_ and her crew were put on the line for finding and rescuing _T'Hekal's_ missing crewmen, the Vulcans' gathered intelligence data was the final key for Starfleet Command to put their plan into action. Making the Dominion believe to gain an easy victory with the defenseless station, the Federation did everything possible to provoke the enemy into action. Ships like the _Victoria_ or the _Qalmoh_ were deliberately kept away from the station. Everything had to appear perfect – and I have to admit that Starfleet was more than successful in creating their illusion, even though I don't approve of their methods. __Being used as a decoy without e__ven knowing it leaves a bitter taste – even though many may think that the end justifies the means, that sometimes sacrifices have to be made in order to save the __greater whole. __By anticipating the Dominion attack and the intrusion of the reinforcements from the Cardassian border into Bajoran space, Starfleet was able to deal the enemy a painful and devastating blow..._

_While DS9 and her crew barely escaped disaster, there is one person though whose problems had to take a backseat to all the chaos of battle. Even though the damage to the station and the traces of the fierce fighting only a few days earlier have almost faded completely, there is still one person for whom the battle isn't over yet. Only now I start to realize how easily we could have lost that person..._

_After all these years, Captain Robert Evans finally has to take over responsibility for his actions 25 years ago. With the revelation of the truth, Starfleet as well as Evans were forced to deal with the past as it should have been done right from the beginning. Regarding Evans' son, however, there still isn't clear how deep the consequences of the past really go..._

_Due to the rapid deterioration of Dr. Bashir's condition, I've seen no other alternative than to bring him back to the place where everything had once begun. Starfleet had been rather reluctant to agree at first, but in the end there was no real way for them to turn down my request. Still, as of yet, it remains unclear how all this will end; and if Dr. Bashir will make a full recovery from whatever is happening to him. But we still have hope. If there's anyone who is able to save his life, it's the doctors and nurses of Adigeon Prime. After five long hours of surgery, time slowly threatens to become the mind's worst enemy..._

* * *

"What is taking so long?" Kira was pacing restlessly to and fro, every now and then throwing a half checking, half anxious glance at the chronometer on the other side of the room where the seconds ticked slowly but steadily away, the sound of it echoing eerily back from the white and sterile walls around them.

They were the only guests in the small waiting room with its long rows of those typical hospital chairs, the artificial and too bright illumination and a few green plants and flowers to ease the tension of those who had to stay behind with little more to do than wait and trust the hospital staff to help whomever it was they had given into the care of the doctors of the Adigeon Prime Central Hospital. There weren't any other patients with them – nor had they met any other person since their arrival some hours earlier.

There was a good chance that the hospital staff was trying to isolate them on purpose, though. A whole group of uniformed Starfleet officers surely made for a quite unusual – and for some even disturbing – sight at this place, considering the fact that it was not exactly a secret that the central authority of Adigeon Prime and the United Federation of Planets had quite contrary ideas of how far the medical world should be allowed to interfere with the natural order of things. Or the lives of their patients at that.

Still, they hadn't been actually treated unkind. But there was this certain reserve about the doctors they had met shortly after their arrival, or the young nurse who had politely ushered them into the small waiting room and explained to them where to find the cafeteria and the restrooms, that made them once again awkwardly aware that this here was no longer Federation territory.

"I don't think I can take another five hours..." O'Brien shook his head, grimacing, as he watched the major take another turn.

"Chief, what about another cup of coffee? I was just about to get some," Dax offered with a crooked smile, tiredly drawing herself up from her seat and flexing her stiff arms in front of her.

Chief O'Brien massaged his neck. "No, thank you, Commander. More of that stuff and it'll be me who's lying in there."

Their mood had finally hit rock bottom. Five hours had passed since they'd brought him in for surgery. Five long hours during which it remained unsure what would become of Bashir; and if the doctors would really be able to help him – or stop whatever was happening to him.

Thinking back to the journey to Adigeon Prime, O'Brien still felt a cold shiver run down his spine at the sight of the young man in sickbay. After the incident in the cargo bay, a medical emergency team had brought him to the infirmary where the healing hands of Dr. Frejir had already been waiting to take care of the battered young man. Julian's injuries had been bad – but not life-threatening. It hadn't taken long for him to regain consciousness but when O'Brien had stepped next to his side, he had barely recognized his friend any longer.

Even though the blood and bruises were gone, his face still had that haunted look to it, his skin unnaturally pale and uncomfortably cool to the touch. He hadn't moved. Even though his eyes had been open, they had focused on nothing. It was as if he had slipped yet again into his own word for none of them to follow, his mind too far gone for Dr. Frejir's worried words, or even his parents imploring words to come back to them, to reach him. And O'Brien could only guess what he was seeing there. Every now and then, a faint shadow would cross his elsewise inert face, and his brows would furrow ever so slightly. It was the only sign that he was still alive, that he must still be feeling something inside. And it was the last sight they had had of him before they had finally given him into the hands of the doctors of Adigeon Prime, placing their last hope in them to work the miracle that was necessary to get the young man back.

With a deep sigh, Dax tiredly stifled a yawn and, with a last checking look at the chronometer, headed for the exit. Even before she had made it halfway across the room, the door suddenly swung open from the other side, and an older, gaunt looking man with deep black hair and tired but gentle eyes appeared in the door frame. His long, white coat fluttered around his ankles until it finally came to a rest with one last blow when the doctor came to a halt in front of them. At once, he became the center of attention.

Almost in reflex, Sisko drew himself up, stepping forward. "How is he?" He asked without much preamble, recognizing the familiar face from the group of doctors they had met shortly upon their arrival.

The older doctor swiftly raised his hands in a calming gesture, an exhausted but genuine smile playing around his lips. He must have come right out of surgery. Sisko wasn't sure if he should feel relieved or worried about seeing no blood on the immaculate white fabric of the doctor's gown. Finally, the older man nodded. "He's fine. At least according to the circumstances. He's still asleep."

Sisko absently straightened his uniform. "What happened?"

The alien doctor all but ignored the last question. Instead he gestured toward the door. His amiable smile lingered. "Why don't you walk with me? I think you and I, we could both do with some fresh air now," he offered in a still gentle voice.

Even though everything in him was screaming at him to get the older doctor to tell him everything about his first medical officer's condition as quickly as possible, he held back, instead pressing his lips into a tight line and taking a swift look at the half tired, half relieved faces of his assembled crewmen. Then Dax was at his side. As if she had read his thoughts, she just squeezed his arm. "I'm sure he's right, Benjamin. Just go. We'll be fine."

Sisko hesitated another long second before he finally gave in. "Okay, but we'll be back soon!"

Following the doctor out into the white hallways, the noise level around them gradually increased. The alien doctor lead him through long, winding corridors that slowly filled with the sight of aliens from a variety of solar systems. Some of them were walking the corridors, some of them just sitting there and waiting for their turn, but all of them turned at the sight of the older doctor to greet him in a variety of languages. After some while, they finally reached the main hall where more patients where waiting in groups or with their families. The doctor motioned Sisko to follow him out of the double winged glass door into the sun-lit garden beyond.

The sun stood already high in the cloudless sky and was bathing the scenery in a soft golden glow. A faint breeze was carrying with it the sweet scent of flowers and pine, making Sisko involuntarily draw in a lung full of the pleasant air. He gradually felt the pressure of the last hours drop from his shoulders when he followed the older man across the garden with its white benches and the small artificial creek that wound its way toward the stand of trees in the distance. It was a peaceful and beautiful sight, making Sisko for a moment forget the real reason for their being here.

Having brought some distance between them and the other guests in the garden, the alien doctor finally turned with another half apologetic smile. "I'm sorry for having you come all this way, Captain. But to be honest, you looked terrible in that waiting room. I just thought that some fresh air would do you good."

Sisko arched one brow. "I guess, you're right. It _have_ been some rather eventful days recently. Doctor...?"

"Oh, please forgive me my bad manners. Dr. Kenaran Lemir." Sisko shook hands with the doctor.

Then he became serious. "How is he, Dr. Lemir?"

The doctor let out a short hard-to-interpret sigh, but quickly shook his head when he noticed the worried look on the captain's face. "No, there's no reason to worry. He's on the mend. But to be honest, you and your doctor were very lucky. Very lucky indeed. Only a little later and even we wouldn't have been able to do anything for him any more."

"What do you mean?"

The older man walked some more meters, waiting for Sisko to catch up. "Well... when you assumed that your doctor's worsening condition had something to do with the genetic resequencing he had undergone as a child, you were not that wrong, Captain. You were right to bring him here. And it may have been the only way to save his life." Dr. Lemir cleared his throat, his gaze directed somewhere into the distance. It took a few moments before he spoke up again. "You know, contrary to what many of my colleagues may tell you, we cannot deny that there sometimes _are_ cases when the artificial resequencing of a patient's DNA can lead to complications in the patient's later life, complications that cannot be predicted in advance because they don't happen until many years after the original treatment. There always is the possibility that something like this can happen, though I have to admit that it's a rather seldom phenomenon. In almost all cases, the DNA resequencing is a success. It's so easy and pain-free that the person who undergoes the genetic treatment doesn't even feel a headache afterward." Catching Sisko's dark frown in the corner of his eyes, the older man sighed: "Please don't get me wrong, Captain. I'm not suggesting that tampering with the DNA of a living being is completely without risks. There actually are quite many things that can go wrong during such a procedure... but I'm sure you already know that."

Sisko nodded. He could very well remember the four genetically enhanced patients Dr. Bashir had been working with some time ago. He knew of the risks of such a procedure. And also of what could go wrong.

Dr. Lemir suddenly locked his eyes with the captain's. A flicker of sadness crossed his distinctive features when he softly shook his head. "I know that your Starfleet doesn't approve of what we're doing here. I know that many consider it illegal and immoral. But nevertheless we're here to help those who seek our help. We're still doctors, Captain. I just want you to understand that."

When Sisko kept silent, the older man continued. "Your doctor," he said with a faraway look, putting both hands into the pocket of his gown, "was a very special case. It was in my early years in this hospital and I can still remember that day when Starfleet suddenly showed up on our doorstep, asking us for help," Dr. Lemir said in soft tones. "They had that young boy with them, barely more than six or seven years old. He'd suffered a severe head injury and had been comatose ever since. And there was as good as no chance that the boy would ever wake up again..." Dr. Lemir shook his head. "We promised to try our best to help him, even though we were well aware that our knowledge and experience would be pushed to the limit. You know, many patients who come here want us to improve their mental and physical skills, their capacity of learning new things, or their physical appearance. In all these cases the procedure remains mainly the same: you take what's already there and start improving things from there."

"But Dr. Bashir's case was different: there wasn't any solid foundation to start from," Sisko suggested.

Dr. Lemir's lips drew into a surprised smile. "Yes, that's about it. You know, when his parents brought him here, the only reason for the genetic enhancement was to enable him to live a new life. His brain damage at that time had been severe. It was nearly impossible to heal the injured brain tissue in any ordinary way. We had to start at zero: make new neural pathways develop and build up everything else from there. To give a six year old child completely new neural pathways was something we had never done before. It was possible, yes, theoretically. But it had never been done in real life. We weren't able to clearly predict what would happen to the child – we only knew what the theory told us. The parents were informed about the risks and also that the genetic enhancement and the replacement of the neural pathways would lead to a complete loss of the child's memory up to that time."

Sisko came to a halt. "I know. His parents told me that they agreed to try the treatment all the same."

Dr. Lemir nodded. "They did indeed. They just wanted him to live. They knew that there was a price to pay, the one way or the other. And after the treatment had been completed, it seemed as if our theory had been right. The boy woke up, but at the same time wasn't able to remember anything that had happened before. After the enhancements, we stayed in contact with the parents for a while, just to make sure that everything was well and that there weren't any complications. And it really did seem as if the boy had no recollection of his former life..."

Sisko arched one brow. "But...?"

Dr. Lemir sighed, taking a deep breath. "We've obviously been wrong. Somewhere deep inside, the memory must have been there all the time. Like some forgotten box that had been stowed away in some remote corner of his brain, isolated from the rest of his memory when the new neural tissue developed. Like some forgotten relict that kept existing even though there was no way for him to consciously access that part of his memory. He's been living all these years with the buried memory without even knowing that it existed. After all this time, something must now have dredged up that box from the depths of his mind. And the effect was devastating."

"Once the isolated memory fragments were brought back into his consciousness, they began to trigger a chain reaction. As his brain had been dividing the memories into two separate parts – one part for the lost memory of the time before the genetic enhancements and one part for everything that happened afterward – your Dr. Bashir was not able to make any sense of the obviously incongruous memories. He had no chance to tell what they were about or where they so suddenly came from. He must have felt as if he was experiencing the memories of a completely different person. But once brought back into consciousness, the lost memory started to interfere with the rest of his brain activity. Like an interference signal that constantly kept his mind busy by making it try to sort out where the new memory information so suddenly came from. In the end, his mind was literally captured in the old, displaced memories. He was no longer able to interact with his surroundings as due to the neural overload new sensory stimuli were no longer processed by his brain."

Sisko shot him a confused look, not quite sure he was able to follow the older doctor. "And what did you do?"

"We've recombined both separate parts of his memory and made sure that all neural pathways are again functioning as they should. It wasn't easy, Captain, but the last hours have not been in vain."

Walking wordlessly side by side, Sisko involuntarily cast a look back at the hospital's main complex.

"Can I see him?"

Dr. Lemir smiled. "Let's walk another few minutes, Captain. I'm sure your doctor will have woken up till then."

* * *

Reluctantly entering the brightly-lit room, Captain Sisko tried to keep as quiet as possible, not sure if Dr. Lemir had been right and Bashir had already regained consciousness. Closing the door with a soft click behind him, he slowly walked over to the only bed in the small room with its sheets as white and clean as the rest of the hospital. The white curtains at the huge panorama window that was covering most of the wall at the far end of the room had been drawn back, revealing in the distance the tiny, flat rooftops of the nearby city at the foot of the small hill where the hospital was situated. A simple table with two brown chairs was the only other furniture in the elsewise empty room.

When he came nearer, their gazes suddenly met.

Bashir was awake and was trying in vain to force what resembled a weak attempt of a smile on his tired and worn features. Struggling to sit up, he didn't make it far when he immediately collapsed back onto the bed.

With only a few more steps, Sisko was at his side, placing strong hands on the young man's shoulders. "Easy now, Julian. I'm sure Dr. Lemir will be anything but thrilled if he finds out that you're already trying to run away," the captain tried lightly, but involuntarily winced at the fragile sight of his first medical officer.

He looked like he could need a month full of sleep. And at least a week in his father's kitchen. His disheveled black hair hung loosely about his forehead, and the way one had tugged the soft white bed cover around him reminded Sisko involuntarily of what Richard had told him about the first time he had seen young Jules after the fateful night with Evans. But at least he was awake now. Even though he was still a miserable sight, he looked far more stable and a lot more like the Julian Bashir he knew than during all those last couple of days. The stupor was gone. His eyes were again firm and focused. The only thing that reminded now of the ordeal he'd gone through was the profound sadness and fatigue in his shimmering eyes.

With a soft groan, Julian let his head sink back against the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut as if he was trying to force the room around him to steady again. A moment later, Sisko had pulled up one of the chairs.

"How do you feel?" he gently asked, bending closer.

For some long seconds, Julian just kept his eyes closed as if he was pondering the answer to that particular question. Then he sighed and slowly refocused his attention on Sisko. "Like I've been run over by a Klingon _bolyak_..." he tried in a futile attempt at humor, his voice still as weak as he looked.

"Do you know where you are?" the captain probed, not sure of how much the young man was able to remember of the last two weeks.

Julian's gaze wandered about the room, then toward the huge panorama window at his side. His brows furrowed. "We're back... at Adigeon Prime... aren't we?" he slowly said, as if he wasn't believing his own words. His gaze lingered at the peaceful landscape outside the window. His eyes took on a faraway look. "I remember the sight of the city from here. And the atmosphere of this place... It's like when I came here as a child..."

Sisko nodded. "Your condition was getting worse with every hour. And we didn't know how to stop it. In the end, the only thing we could think of was bringing you back to the only people who might be able to help..." His face became stern, adopting a tint of worry, when he carefully asked: "What is the last thing you remember?"

A flicker of sadness crossed the young man's tired features at Sisko's words. His lips pressed into a tight line. It took an eternity before he finally spoke. "That my father tried to kill me?" It might have been intended as a joke, hadn't his voice broken in the middle of it.

With a soft groan, Julian rubbed his still sleepy eyes, like he was trying to bring some sort of order into the chaos in his mind. "The last thing I remember is that we were in the cargo bay. Dax and Chief O'Brien were there. And..." he swallowed hard, "...Captain Evans. There was weapons fire and a lot of shouting. I remember that I had a fight with my father. And I lost. I was hurt and – the chief brought me to some kind of maintenance tube where we hid for a while. And I remember that I was so tired that everything I wanted to do was sleep..." He suddenly broke off, as if he was afraid that nothing of what he said made any sense to the captain. He shook his head. "The next thing I knew I woke up in this room. And now you're sitting next to me. But I guess there's a lot more to the story, isn't there?"

Sisko nodded, propping himself on his knees. "You went missing. When no one was able to tell where you where, we went searching for you. It were Dax and O'Brien who found you in that cargo bay." He deliberately left out what role Evans had been playing in the drama. Though he knew that Julian must be aware of it. His face fell somber. "Is there anything else you remember?"

Julian took a deep breath, and visibly gathered himself. His face contorted into a painful grimace. "A lot of things I wish I rather didn't..." he began slowly, obviously aware that Sisko must know the truth. He didn't face the captain when he stared blankly at the end of the bed and the white wall beyond. "I remember what happened. Not only in the cargo bay. I... know what happened all those years ago..." He was still staring in front of himself, absently biting his lower lip. "All those nightmares... They had been real after all... " he whispered more to himself than Sisko. Finally, his face took on a pained expression. "I just wish I had never found out about the truth..."

Feeling Sisko's warm hand on his arm, the young man reluctantly lifted his gaze to meet the captain's. "But I guess there's nothing I can do to change anything about it now..." Julian said in a broken and defeated voice.

Sisko squeezed his arm in comfort.

"Starfleet has relieved Captain Evans of duty. He's in pending custody now. The formal hearing will be postponed until you're feeling better and we're back home on DS9," Sisko offered mildly. "Get some rest, Julian. There's nothing to hurry... Take your time. As much as you need."

When the young man only nodded, a slight smile spread across Sisko's features. "In the meantime, there are some persons who would like to see you. You've given everyone quite a fright."

* * *

Closing his eyes against the all too harsh reality, Julian wished he could just glide back into that great oblivion of sleep and forget everything around him. Even though his mind was clearer than only hours before and the ever-lingering haze that had made it so hard to think was finally gone, he felt as if he had woken from his nightmare just to learn that his nightmare had become reality. He still felt so utterly exhausted and drained. And not yet ready to begin to gather up the shreds his life had yet again been torn into...

Listening to his own breath, he didn't know how to feel. When he had told Sisko about what had happened in the cargo bay, he had felt a strange detachment from the events. Like if everything had happened in a dream. But the longer he thought about it, the more the heavy weight of reality came seeping into his consciousness. He still couldn't believe it. He still refused to believe what had happened. His own father had tried to kill him... Evans had tried do kill him... Evans was his _father_...

He'd listened to Sisko's words telling him that Evans had been relieved of duty without quite knowing what to make of the information. It all still felt so unreal. Or perhaps he was only refusing to think any further about it in a desperate attempt to protect himself. If there was one thing he wanted right now, it was not to think about what had happened. All the more was he grateful for Sisko's words. He knew that the affair was far from being over, that sooner or later he was going to have to face his past in all its ugliness. But at least for the moment, he could find some illusionary rest that gave him enough time to try to get to grips with his feelings first. And Julian was grateful for it.

Only a few moments after the captain had left, there was a knock on the door. When he turned his gaze toward the newcomer and saw who was standing in the door frame, he grimaced. "I should have know that you've come along, Miles."

"Do you really expect us to leave you alone in this place? Kira and Dax have already emptied half of the cafeteria's coffee supply..." O'Brien joked as he came nearer, settling down on the same chair as Sisko had some time earlier. Relief was painted all across his face, when he intently leaned forward. "How do you feel?"

Julian sighed. "Why's everyone asking me the same question?"

"Because we've been worried about you," the chief retorted with slight indignation. "You should have seen yourself! It's a wonder you're alive!"

Julian let his gaze glide up to the ceiling, silently hoping for the chief to leave the matter be. He knew that everyone was concerned about his well-being but it just... made him feel how vulnerable he was. How much he had lost control over the situation. How foolish he had been to think that he was able to get to grips with his problems all by himself. It only made him realize how little he had been able to stop what had been happening with him. How helpless he had been.

He was glad for their worry. He was glad that he had friends who cared so much for him. But at the same time he felt so utterly embarrassed and ashamed about what had happened. Not only had he made a complete fool of himself in front of his friends and colleagues. By now almost everyone on the station must have learned about the truth of their first medical officer's pitiful childhood. If all of this had just never happened. If he was just able to turn back time, to erase the last two weeks from his memory again... He didn't know how much more he would be able to bear.

_You went missing. When no one was able to tell where you where, we went searching for you. It were Dax and O'Brien who found you in the cargo bay,_ the captain's words echoed in his mind. He knew that Sisko was right. He owed Dax and O'Brien his life. It it hadn't been for them, he would even be lying here today. Drumming up all the courage he was able to muster, he slowly opened his eyes again – and finally turned toward O'Brien.

"Thank you, Miles," he whispered reluctantly, realizing with wonder that he meant it.

O'Brien seemed puzzled for a moment. "For what?"

"For everything you've done for me," he replied, remembering all the times Miles had tried to help. He should have listened to him right from the beginning. He should have done so many things...

"Never mind, Julian. You'd have done the same for me."

Julian hesitated, taking a deep breath. "I... I really thought I was going to die in that cargo bay, Miles. Only a little more and he'd have killed me... My own father... would have killed me. He'd once nearly done it and when we were standing in the cargo bay..." he suddenly broke off, blinking several times against the moisture that had come forming in the corner of his eyes. When he thought about what Evans had once done to him – what he had again tried to do to him...

"I still can't believe that I could forget everything so easily. My own past. My parents. The boy I was... Ever since we've come back from Atholes III, it was as if my mind was captured in an endless loop and the only thing I was reliving again and again was that night 25 years ago. I made such a fool of myself. And I'm sorry for everything that happened." His gaze dropped to the side.

"It's not your fault, Julian, and you know it. You never had any influence on what was happening to you. If anyone is to blame, it is Evans," O'Brien firmly stated, intently watching the young man. "Do you hear me? It's not your fault what happened. Neither what happened in your childhood nor what happened between you and Evans in the cargo bay."

Julian nodded weakly. But still _he_ was the one who was being punished, wasn't he? Back then as well as now. Even if Evans hadn't managed to take his life, he surely had managed to make a mess out of it. "I just wish nothing of it had ever happened."

"Do you... I mean, can you remember... everything?" O'Brien awkwardly probed.

For a moment Julian just kept silent. Then he absently nodded. "If you mean what happened on that evening 25 years ago, the answer is yes... I know what happened back then, what really happened back on that evening. But what is even worse: I know what happened before. All the time I spent with them, all the first years of my childhood. I remember how much I loved them, and how much I was afraid of doing something wrong," he swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in his throat. "I remember that I never understood what I had done wrong, why I could never measure up to their expectations. Why I was never able to get their love..."

He felt a sudden surge of emotions at the thought. And desperately bit back the tears that were threatening to form at the memory. Instead, he pulled himself together, shaking his head as to banish the thoughts out of his mind.

"But they're only memories, Miles. It all happened such a long time ago. And I'm no longer the young boy from back then. There's no way to change the past. But some time sooner or later, the memory will become less painful. I just need some time," he finally said more to himself than the chief.

O'Brien looked barely convinced but there was no chance for him to voice his concern, when a hesitant knock on the door drew their attention. The chief cocked up his head in surprise, and hurried to draw himself up when he saw the two figures at the door.

"Mr. and Mrs. Bashir, I'm sorry. Please come in!" The chief gestured for them to enter, his unexpected word's making Julian's heart instantly skip a beat. As if in reflex, his gaze darted back to the end of his bed. He didn't turn to face them when O'Brien motioned to them to come in. He wasn't sure he could.

"I'm sure there are a lot of things, you'd like to talk about," the chief offered slightly unsure, throwing a checking glance at the young man on the bed. If he had noticed how Julian had tensed at his words, he was diplomatic enough not to comment. He flashed a swift but encouraging smile toward the three Bashirs. "I'll just check on Commander Dax and the others. Please take your time. I'll come back later." And with that he turned, not without another last – and this time rather concerned – look back at his friend.

Watching O'Brien leave, Julian fought the urge to call after him to stay. His pulse quicken as his thoughts began tumbling in his mind.

His _parents_. The two persons he had always believed to be his parents. All these years. Completely unaware of the truth. Completely oblivious to the fact that there was not a single drop of blood they were sharing. That his whole life was based on a lie, and he was the only one not aware of it.

It came so suddenly. And it was about the last thing he was prepared for. It was as if he was pushed out on stage to hold the opening speech after graduation from Starfleet medical without having had any time to rehearse it. Least of all having any idea what to say...

He heard Amsha quietly thank the chief, before she turned and hesitantly came nearer. He could tell from her posture that she was at least as nervous and felt at least as awkward as he did. Her lips were drawn into an anxious thin line. Richard audibly cleared his throat, before he followed one step behind her. When he saw Julian, a sad shadow crossed his face.

"How do you feel, Jules?" Amsha asked as she reluctantly settled down on the rim of his bed, gently taking his hand into hers.

It took several moments before he found his voice. He'd never felt so awkward and embarrassed in his whole life. A chaos of thoughts was tumbling in his head. And he just didn't know where to start. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he tried to pull himself together.

"Better..." was everything he finally managed to bring forth in a hoarse whisper, still trying not to meet her searching gaze.

Amsha affectionately squeezed his hand. Her hands were warm. Just like he remembered them. "We were so worried about you. We thought that... we've lost you forever," she said with tears glistening in her dark, gentle eyes.

Her unexpected words made him reluctantly lift his gaze.

She was so different. So different than Mum. But she wasn't his real mother, he realized with a painful knot in his stomach. His real mother had never wanted him, had deliberately hurt and neglected him. She had longed for a life without him, because he had been different from what she had always dreamed of. She had never loved him for who he had been.

And Richard. All the arguments they had had over the years. About his genetic enhancements, about his career in Starfleet. How Richard had vehemently opposed Julian's leaving Earth for taking up Starfleet's assignment at one of their starbases in the wilderness of space. How he had tried to make him stay and take Mr. Delon's offer of a job at the Paris Central Hospital on Earth instead. All the arguing, all the differences. He couldn't say that their relationship had been easy. He hadn't been back home for the last four years and even now, after the truth of his genetic enhancements had come out and he had somewhat started to rebuild his relationship with his parents, there was still a long way for them to go.

But Richard had never tried to hurt him. He'd defended his son, had even taken over the responsibility for the genetic enhancement to give Julian the chance to continue his career in Starfleet. He had taken over the responsibility without complaining, without questioning the justice behind it – even after all what had happened between the three of them. After all the years Julian had made them feel how little he thought of their noble idea of giving him the chance to lead a normal life with the enhancements. Richard had played along – only to protect his son and wife.

Feeling Amsha silently squeeze his hand in comfort, his heart tightened painfully. And suddenly there was Richard at his side, laying a strong and steady hand on his shoulder, his lips drawing into the most reassuring smile he could muster, as if he was trying to tell him that everything would be alright. Like back when he had broken his arm while playing bicycle race with his friends at school and his father had brought him to the hospital, comforting young Jules who had been all tears after the accident. Or when he had failed his first exam in high school, coming home all devastated and down because his teacher had thought he had been copying from a friend even though he'd only been trying to help him understand the question of the test.

Richard had been there for him. He'd always been there for him.

Because they were his family.

Even if he now remembered the truth, there was nothing that could change the last 25 years of his life, he realized with a thumping heart. Nothing could change the time they had spent together, or the experiences they had shared. They had chosen him, they had loved him with all their heart and their feelings for him remained the same. Because family was more than just a biological matter. Family was a feeling...

With his last strength, he struggled to sit up. The room began to spin, and his vision blurred but this time he managed to prop himself against the mattress before he could have fallen back.

A second later, he felt her gentle embrace, gathering him up in her arms. And this time he returned it. His head rested against her shoulder while she affectionately stroke his dark hair. Feeling her comforting warm body against his face, hearing her gentle, murmuring words telling him that everything would be fine, he tried in vain to hold back the flood of emotions that finally came rushing to the fore when the reality of what had happened, of how irrevocably the last two weeks had changed his life caught up with him in the end. His heart felt so full of sorrow that it was hard for him to breath. Sorrow over the lost time of his childhood. Sorrow over the love he had once been yearning for so desperately but which he had never received. Sorrow over having found the truth just to lose so much more. Sorrow over a father who had once again abandoned and forsaken him - but also sorrow and shame about what he had been doing all these years to the only persons who had accepted and loved him for the person he was.

Thick tears came filling his eyes, slowly threatening to flow over. And this time he didn't fight them back. Clinging to her as if his life itself depended on it, he finally gave in to the overwhelming pain that had been keyed up inside him for much too long. That had almost managed to destroy him.

Only for the moment, he was again that helpless, little child, all alone in a cold and scaring world, yearning for nothing so much than love and affection. And she gave it to him.


	12. Chapter 20 Epilog

**- Chapter 20 - **

When he entered the room, he saw him.

He sat cowering on the floor, next to one of the cots, both hands folded over his head and his face hidden beneath them. His black-gray hair was rumpled and unkempt. As if he were oblivious to the two visitors to the holding area, he didn't move.

Something deep with him urged him to draw back at the older man's sight. To turn his back at this place, walk back out of the room and leave his past as it was. To go back to what was left of his life and try to make a new start. But still he knew he couldn't. He knew that he wouldn't be able to go on if he didn't face him one last time. He needed to put an end to it if he ever wanted to start to heal.

"Take your time, Dr. Bashir. If there's anything you need, you know where to find me." Odo nodded with a last checking look at the holding cell before he turned on his heels and headed for the front part of the security office.

Julian nodded absently. His gaze still lingered on the holding cell in front of him. When he took a step closer, the figure in it suddenly stirred, slowly lifting his head. When their gaze's met, the eyes of the man in the cell suddenly widened.

It was the same red-trimmed uniform, the same deep brown eyes, the same distinctive features, the same gray hair... but there wasn't much left of the former legendary Captain Robert Evans. It was hard not to notice that something within the man had broken. He awkwardly tried to stumble to his feet, his intense yet somewhat unfocused stare making Julian start. His eyes still wide with disbelief – and grief, Julian realized -, he stumbled forward until his face was only inches from the forcefield.

"Jules..."

When Bashir offered no reply but kept standing wordlessly and stone-faced in the distance, Evans' face darkened and he backed away. He staggered back and let himself drop heavily down onto the cot of his cell, rubbing over his tired eyes. "So that's why I'm still here..." he said in a sad whisper.

"You'll have to face a court martial for your actions. The formal hearing will be held tomorrow morning," Julian said, surprised at how devoid of emotion his voice sounded. He didn't offer any further comment.

Reluctantly Evans lifted his gaze, a sad and rueful smile on his lips. With his hunched shoulders, there was nothing left of his former self-confidence and authority. He looked like a defeated man. A man who had lost everything. "You'll never understand it, Jules, will you? Why everything had to come as it did. Why we have to face each other like this now? What I've dreaded most in my life has come true. I've lost you a second time."

Despite his earlier resolution not to become emotional, not to let Evans' words get to him, Julian felt the words tumble out of his mouth before he could stop them. "What makes you think you could have ever lost me...?"

The older man drew himself up and came closer to the forcefield, the sad smile still on his lips. "I'm your father, Jules. And you're my son," he said – and it almost sounded like a plea.

"You know that that is not true. I may very well be your son, but you've never been my father... not after what you've done to me. Not after how much you have made me suffer..." He wanted to say so much more, but bit the words back before he could have regretted them.

Evans nodded. "Maybe that's right. Maybe I did some things I shouldn't. Maybe I made some mistakes in the past. But we won't be able to change the past now, will we? What's done is done. Our paths have diverged a long time ago, each of us following the path that had been destined for us. The path that has finally brought us together again." Evans didn't take his eyes off Julian.

"You've made your decision a long time ago. You should have thought about the consequences then." Julian's face drew into a faint grimace in spite of himself. When he thought back to the younger Jules, how he had yearned so much for his parents' love and affection, and how he had never received them, his chest tightened painfully. But still, those had been the feelings of young Jules. The only emotion he was now able to bring up for the broken man in front of him was pity. Not love, not affection, nor any other feeling that had never been reciprocated. It was as if everything little Jules had ever felt for his parents had died along with him on that fateful evening.

The older captain kept silent for a moment. Then he nodded. "Then I'm glad that they were able to offer you what I couldn't. You had a happy childhood with them, Jules. What more could a child wish for?"

Julian involuntarily stepped closer, the blood suddenly rushing to his face. "Don't try to judge my life. You have no idea. You don't know of the problems I had. You never had to go through what I did. You never had to learn that you are different than the others. You never had hide what you really are because you would have lost everything if you didn't. You have no idea what my life has been like after what you did to me so stop talking as if you knew everything!"

Evans met his glare squarely. "Then tell me. He have another chance, Jules..."

Bashir incredulously stared at Evans, silent tears forcing their way up into his eyes despite his effort to pull himself together. His voice was barely more than a whisper when he finally shook his head. "No, Dad, I can't and I won't forgive you what you've done. What you tried again to do."

Another long second, he held the other man's gaze. Then he turned without another word and headed for the exit.

"Jules! You can't just ignore what happened! If you leave now, you'll regret it. The memories are there. You can't push them away!"

Julian eventually came to a halt, turning. "Don't worry, Dad, I won't. Everything that happened, all those memories will forever stay a part of me... After all this time, they still hurt. But it's nothing compared to how I felt back then."

Not waiting for Evans' reply, he turned his back on the scenery and headed for the exit, shutting out Evans' desperate calls for him to stay. Without even being aware of it, he bit the constable curtly goodbye and hurriedly exited the round door of the security office. No sooner had the door closed behind him, than he came to a halt, leaning heavily back against the bulkhead in his back. He felt as if all his scantily gathered energy was seeping away in an instant, making his legs feel like rubber. His heart was still pounding heavily in his chest when he closed his eyes and tried to wipe the rest of the barely suppressed tears out of the corner of his eyes. It had taken him so much self-control to talk one last time to Evans. But at least he'd brought it to an end. He still wasn't able to sort through the chaos inside him but as he had told Evans, he would live with the pain. And even the pain would fade some day until the only thing that remained of the tragic events in the past would be a sad memory of his childhood.

With another deep breath, he slowly opened his eyes and watched the bustle on the promenade. The passersby and shop owners, the Starfleet officers hurrying by and the visitors sauntering along the long row of shops – no one seemed to take much notice of him and Julian was glad for it. Life on the station was going on. And so would his.

With a quick, wistful look over to the infirmary, he wondered if Sisko would be angry with him if he went back to his work even though Counselor Telnorri had suggested he take off another two weeks before he came slowly back to duty. At least he would be able to keep his mind busy, and his thoughts distracted. Though it were not exactly his thoughts that were the real problem, or his mind that needed to get distracted. It was the emptiness in his soul, the feeling of a great loss. Like if some part of his self had been taken away, and there was nothing that could fill the gaping hole that was left behind. He had redeemed his childhood, his own truth, but had lost in only a few days more than in all the months of fighting. No, he was no longer afraid of the night. He no longer needed to run away from himself and he would no longer be haunted by nightmares about a father who was trying to kill his own son. What remained was only a bitter feeling of sadness and loneliness.

"What about some darts?"

Bashir startled at the sudden nearness of the voice. He hadn't noticed Chief O'Brien come up to him.

Slowly Julian shook his head, not without some pang of guilt about turning down yet another of the chief's offers. "I'm sorry, Miles, but I don't think I'm in the mood for it. I'd rather... be alone now," he said without any trace of enthusiasm.

O'Brien didn't seem very impressed by the young man's dismissal. With a smirk on his face, he gently took hold of Julian's shoulders to steer the young man toward the bustle in Quark's, completely ignoring Bashir's attempts of resistance. "I think, we already had that discussion. Come on, even Worf volunteered to join us!"

Julian shot him an unbelieving look. "You managed to talk Worf into playing darts?"

"Well, in fact, it was his wife..." the chief conceded with a wink as he pulled Julian along.

"Jadzia's here as well?"

O'Brien arched one meaningful brow. Then he laughed: "Look Julian, just... call it some small, spontaneous get-together ..."

Julian couldn't help a smile. "I take it that Major Kira also just happened to stop by...?"

It was the first genuine smile in weeks. Even if it was still hesitant, it was at least a beginning. They'd be able to build upon it.

"You'll be surprised who else also just _happened to stop by_!" O'Brien chuckled when they entered the bustling of the Ferengi bar.

* * *

He couldn't tell how glad he was to have his officer and crewman back. Even though he knew that the wound inside him would still take some time to heal, it was at least a beginning. He even seemed relaxed, not so dark and brooding like during the last couple of days. When he was told by O'Brien to take the right distance toward the dart board and Worf launched yet another debate about fairness and honor in battle, he almost seemed to be back to his old self.

He was relieved that things had turned out well in the end, even though there were still some things that were far from being over. Whose end was still uncertain.

Something about the whole story had made him realize how important it was to act before it was too late. And he would act. He felt it clearer than ever before. He would take action... even if he had to lose in order to win at length.

"Your gloomy look doesn't exactly fit into the happy atmosphere here, Benjamin. Even Worf is enjoying himself," the young Trill commented with a raised brow, placing her cup of synthehol on the table before she settled down next to him.

"And, has your mind found its way back to Quark's?"

He looked at her. A smile crept upon his lips. "I was just thinking."

"And about what?"

He scooped up his own glass and took a short sip. Then he set it back down on the table and looked over to where Bashir, O'Brien and Worf were still in the middle of their heated discussion. It was almost like back in the old days.

Almost.

His gaze still lingering on his arguing crewmen, he shook his head. "It's... nothing important."

'

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- **Epilog -**

_Bright sunlight filtered in through the white curtains and filled the room with a pleasant warmth. A faint breeze came through the open window, carrying with it the sweet scent of a sunny summer morning._

_She was sitting on a chair next to him, her sleeping face bedded on her folded arms on the white cover of his bed. He didn't know how long she had been here, but watching her sleep, he knew that she must have been here because of him. Still groggy and tired, he tried to get his hand free from under the bed cover._

_When she suddenly stirred and turned her sleepy face to look at him, he held his breath. Her long, black hair was welling to both sides over her shoulders when she slowly drew herself up. Stifling a yawn, she gave him a loving smile. _

"_You're awake..."_

_Her voice was soft and pleasant. He released the breath he was holding and snuggled again up to the soft pillow._

"_Have I been asleep?" he asked dreamily, rubbing at his tired eyes._

"_Yes, darling. You've been asleep for quite some time. We were worried about you."_

_He looked about. He couldn't remember coming to this place. She must have noticed his questioning gaze when she said: "You fell from the swing, Jules. I told you not to overdo it but you just wouldn't listen. And there you lay. Right when we were going to have some coffee and cake. You gave us quite a fright." _

_It felt good to see her laugh. He couldn't remember the swing..._

"_We wanted to have some cake?"_

_She softly stroke his forehead. "Yes, darling. Today's your birthday. We were just about to try your birthday cake."_

_His face lit up. "Chocolate cake... we wanted to eat chocolate cake...?"_

"_Yes, chocolate cake. And when we're back home, you'll get an extra big piece of it."_

_He couldn't remember the swing. Nor the cake. But something in her face told him that it must have been as she said. And when he kept thinking about it, he thought he could even remember it. Chocolate cake. Yes... and... she had called his name. He could remember that. He could remember how she had called his name after he'd fallen._

_She gathered him up in her arms and hugged him softly. "I love you, Jules."_

"_I love you too, Mum."_

_'  
_

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**=/\= The End. =/\=**

**To be continued in... "In the Pale Moonlight"**

**2012 by Mijra**

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**Notes from the author:**

Wow... here it is. Finally. The whole story. A story that has kept me company for more than eight years now. It's hard to imagine that you can work on something for such a long time, even though I have to admit that I've really "worked" on the story for the last two years.

After I wrote and published the original in 2004, I've always wanted to do an English translation because I love this story and I so wanted to share it with other people. It's taken me a long time to put my plan into action, but finally I did by posting the first chapters in April 2011. At first, the story started as a pure translation from the original. But as the story grew, I realized that I had so much more to tell. It had been eight years after all. So I started to add some new things. I rewrote scenes or added whole new paragraphs. All in all, both versions are similar in their content though the new version is much longer and more detailed than the original one – I guess you could say it's the grown-up version of the original.

Basically, it's more than just a story about Julian uncovering a secret about his childhood and suffering from the consequences. It's a story about people. About hopes and dreams – and human failure. It's about what happens when your life suddenly starts to go into the wrong direction. Without forewarn. Without you being able to do anything against it. And how easily your life can be turned upside down when you thought that everything went just as you planned it.

I wanted to make the story fit into the canon. Like something that would theoretically be possible within the original setting. If you've made it this far and have some time to spare, just go back and try to watch "Dr. Bashir, I presume" again. You'll realize that what's happened in this story _could _be possible. As well as it _could_ fit into the context of the next episode "In the pale moonlight" that takes place right after the events in this story.

And yes, the O'Briens do have a cat:) I've been asked the question a lot during the last months. In fact, Chester originally belonged to Liam Bilby and was adopted by Miles O'Brien after Bilby's life had taken a tragic end in the episode "Honor Among Thieves" (Season 6). Speaking of a tragic end, if this story had an end credit song, then for part I it would have been without doubt the Japanese singer Chihiro Onitsuka's song "Gekkou" (Moonlight). It's a very sad song with lyrics that fit quite well into the context of the story. If you're interested, just google it – but try to avoid any life version of the song because it... well... doesn't sound quite as good as the studio recorded version.

Finally, I would like to dedicate this story to my grandpa H. who was the first to show me that one and the same person can leave completely different impressions on different people – and my grandpa R. who showed me that relationships we chose can be at least as firm and lasting as those we are born into.

Thank you all for your patience and kind support!

I'd be more than happy if you keep reading my stories!

Love,

Mijra

October 2012


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